


In Knowing

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Written for spn_j2_bigbang2011.He had always thought he was normal—as "normal" as a hunter could be, that is—but then the dreams started; blood and gore and death, all wrapped around a man he could only see the back of. Somehow, those were the least of his problems.Sam Harvelle had grown up with his adoptive family to hunt, to take out the supernatural beasts that roamed the night and terrorized the innocent. It had always been that way, and Sam liked it that way. But, a run in with a drifter by the name of Dean tipped Sam's normal world upside down. He became the darkness, reveled in it, danced alongside his new friend on the bones of the slain. And then they came, offering hope, a chance to be what they were supposed to be, and gave them the best gift Sam and Dean could possibly ask for: each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Beta: theprincesjewel

It had been going on for almost two and a half years: the dreams, the vivid impressions, the dark laughter echoing in his head as brilliant crimson spilled and dribbled from the edge of the table. He was always an observer, watching the macabre artistry as the man sliced and hacked and gouged and tore off bits of his victims. 

 

At first, Sam Harvelle had thought he was having freaky nightmares that were just a little too real. However, after a week of seeing the back of the dream murderer’s head while he killed someone, there was a report on the news about ripped-up bodies showing up on abandoned roads. He’d sort of realized that it wasn’t a coincidence. 

 

Sam’s adoptive mother, Ellen, had sent him sniffing out psychics in hopes of finding a way to turn the dreams off. After twenty fakes, Sam had finally found an honest to God psychic. She had taken one look at him and her round, sweet face crumpled in sympathy. Missouri Mosley had been the one to break the news, to suggest that Sam try working with police, try to look around and find out where the murders were happening—there was no way to turn it off.

 

“Sam, honey; you’re linked to this guy, linked somewhere deeper than I’ve ever seen two people linked before. There’s no way to block it out or turn it off; all you can do is try to help the police capture him so that when he’s put to death, you’ll be free of him.”

 

Sam had simply stared at Missouri’s face for a long moment, and then nodded jerkily and left. He’d been in her company all of twelve and a half minutes. It didn’t seem like a long enough time to alter his life forever, didn’t seem like any time at all, but there was no changing it, no way out other than to hope the police caught the guy.

 

Turned out that looking anywhere but at the back of the murderer’s head or at the victim directly wasn’t an option, so Sam couldn’t help police. Instead, he went home to his mother’s roadhouse and tried like hell to forget about the psychic link he had to a serial killer.

 

The dreams got worse, gorier, bringing along the echo of screams, the scent of blood, the tang of steel as the murderer dragged the flat of the blade over his tongue before putting it to good use. Ellen and his younger adoptive sister, Jo, would swap off nights, shaking him out of the dreams. At first, they’d been panicked but as the months dragged into a year, and over into two, it became another routine.

 

Sam worked behind the bar while Ellen and Jo waitressed, and for the most part, it was fine. However, some nights Sam had to abandon the bar to his mother while he went to deal with the diamond-hard arousal that flooded him suddenly. Sometimes it would come simply ‘hearing’ the rusty laugh of the murderer in his head, while other times it would be the sight of blood from a nicked finger. It was those times that Sam started fearing for his sanity.

 

Since the whole thing had started, Sam had slowly but steadily noticed a shift in how he perceived things. Things he’d have seen two years ago and been horrified by now left him almost aroused, hot under the collar, and kind of desperate.

 

Tonight, however, seemed to be a good night: Sam was filling orders, awareness buzzing under his skin. He smiled and laughed and told jokes while he served the men and women that peppered the bar, filled orders for his mother and sister, and called into the back for the cook to start another order.

 

Dean entered the bar and settled at a table near the rear exit. He looked from one man another before scanning the women. His eyes lingered longer on the bartender than the others, following him from one patron to the next. He cocked his head to the side: there was something familiar about him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. 

 

The young blond in tight jeans running around the bar came over to his table showing nothing but teeth in a smile too big for his tastes. She popped in front of him, and he nearly growled at the bitch for blocking his view. His eyes narrowed for a moment before her green eyes landed on him as she greeted him. 

 

He ordered a hard drink and offered a cold smile back. Dean was all arrogance and attitude when he didn't want to be bothered, but when he was trying to lure someone in he was sweet as apple pie. Just depended on his mood and what the person needed to get them wherever the fuck he wanted them. 

 

It had started when he was sixteen, and he'd been on his own ever since. He'd been on his own long before that, but it was a long and stupid story that even bored him. One victim to the next, state to state, hearing screams in his sleep that didn't haunt him but instead drove him hard. So hard that sometimes he'd have a little fun with whatever moron that had caught his attention that night. With the body count he had been racking up over the years, you would think that someone would be on his trail but the cops never got close. Yeah, there were news reports and leads but fuck if anyone was close. If he even got the idea that someone was, they were next on his hit list. 

 

"Scotch on the rocks," he said pointedly, just wanting the bouncy little whore out of his sight. She stalked off towards the bar to the place the order, a bitchy look on her face as she went.

 

Dean shifted back in his seat, attention drawn momentarily to a drunk on the left of the bar. The guy was being a typical jackass, overly loud with the woman stupid enough to be with him. 

 

Now, Dean tortured and murdered people. But some, you had to admit, truly deserved it. He licked his lips, studying the pair a moment. The girl deserved it too, for being so fucking weak that she took the guy’s shit. 

 

But his choice of victim all depended on his mood: sometimes he liked a fight and others he loved taking what was broken and smashing it to pieces. Unlike most serial killers, he had nothing specific that drew him to a victim. Nothing he was aware of, anyway.

 

“You’ve got an admirer, Sammy,” Jo sneered as she leaned on the bar in front of her brother, waiting while he poured the drink order. “He’s had his eye on you since he came in. Too bad he’s a bitch.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Which table? If he’s such an asshole, I’ll take him his drink,” he offered, plucking the tumbler up from the bar.

 

“He’s all yours, bro,” Jo replied, snickering. “Just don’t complain to me if he ends up biting your face off. Table twelve.”

 

Sam snorted and headed off to the table, shooting a dirty look at Jo over his shoulder. “Scotch on the rocks,” he said, setting the glass on the table.

 

Dean tensed a moment and looked up at the man that brought him his drink. The bartender. He just stared a moment, very unlike him, before shaking his head. "Thanks."

 

“Four-fifty,” Sam replied, shoving his hands in his pockets casually. “And, a friendly reminder; if you’re pissy, don’t take it out on my sister or the patrons. I’d hate to have to escort you out.”

 

Dean handed him a five but didn't let go even after Sam had a hold on it. "I would like to see you try, but just a word of wisdom for your sister: Just because she wears a shirt three sizes too small doesn't mean everyone is going to give the bitch the attention she's seeking."

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he straightened up to his full height, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s her own damn business if she wants to draw attention, not yours. Be pissed off elsewhere; we don’t need any trouble in here.” His hand went to his back where he kept his Berretta tucked into the waistband of his pants. “I’ve got no qualms walking you out of here at gun point, if you make me do it.” He cleared his throat, lips quirking into a smirk. “Don’t make me do it, though; you’re my best bet for eye candy tonight.”

 

"It becomes my business when it’s my attention she's bouncing to get and has you coming over bitch at me because, what, because I didn't give her she wanted? Pretty sad, actually. I mean, besides not drooling over her or pussying out because you came over; what did I do?" he challenged, expecting a real answer if the guy had one. He smirked. "I'll take the compliment, thanks." He took his drink, leaning in his chair to get comfortable and watch the scene around him. Whether the bartender stayed or not, that was up to him.

 

“Kinda my job as a big brother to watch out for her,” Sam said and turned, took two steps away, and then grinned over his shoulder cheekily. “I’m Sam, by the way. And you’ve got ketchup on your shirt.” He wandered back to the bar and ignored Jo’s snickering to shoot a look over at Ellen. She didn’t look too pleased that he’d left the bar, but didn’t do a walk by to bitch him out for it.

 

Still, the guy had no answer to what Dean did besides not give Jo attention. He really hated the stupid reasons people had to start shit but—Sam, was it?—was walking away and hadn’t heard Dean's all too subtle comment that the red on his shirt wasn't ketchup. What, could you expect him to get all the blood all the time?

 

Things seemed to go back to normal after that: Sam joked and laughed with the barflies and gently turned down the women that hit on him, turning on a bashful face to encourage them to keep flirting and buying alcohol. It probably wasn’t the most honest thing, but then half of what Sam did on a regular basis—well, had done before the stupid dreams had started up—hadn’t been exactly honest.

 

Jo and Ellen flitted from customer to customer, leaving Sam to take care of the bar and drop off drinks for the man at table twelve when he’d signal for another round. They didn’t talk save for necessity, but Sam did spend some time just looking from the corner of his eye without making it too obvious. He hadn’t been teasing when he’d said that the guy was the best bet at eye candy that he’d get that night; the guy was tall, sandy blonde hair, vivid green eyes, and a mouth that looked soft enough to smother in. It really had been too bad about his attitude, though.

 

Dean's eyes were all over the place. No one was catching his interest at all tonight, for any reason, and it was getting sort of annoying. Dean loved to fuck and he loved to kill and everyone in here was straight or boring. Everyone except the bartender, but there was something that made him uneasy. Well, no, not uneasy but whatever it was, it was more than lust, though that was certainly a part of his thinking. He could picture pinning Sam down and even better he could picture Sam putting up a nice fight, one that Dean may not win for once, which would be oddly thrilling. Either way, he didn't want to damage or kill Sam. He'd fuck him nice and slow if that's what he wanted and…. As the clock reached ten thirty, he realized what he was thinking, and shook it away. 

 

He pressed his lips together, finished his drink, and looked around: he needed someone, anyone, who would get his mind off of Sam. Off of whatever fucking hold the kid had on him, because it was pissing him off. Dean pushed himself away from the table as a boy who looked too young to be in the bar entered. He spent the next twenty minutes not drinking, instead putting all of his attention on the attention-seeking male bitch. He gave the kid all he could want and more. He was hard and horny, and, fuck, he was going to rip this kid a new asshole before he beat him to death, nice and slow. Shortly before eleven they were out the door. Someone this stupid, again, deserved it.

As it neared eleven, Sam had to excuse himself. He didn’t know what his murderer was thinking about, but it was making Sam’s jeans a bit tight at the crotch, sending the buzz under his skin up another couple of notches. Sam swapped off with Ellen and made his way outside, trying to cool himself off and calm down before he did something stupid, like jerking off at work.

 

The sounds of kissing and soft breaths drew Sam’s attention, but he moved around to the other side, away from the noise. Whatever action other people were getting wasn’t going to help Sam will away his arousal. Sometimes, he really wished that he could get his hands on the murderer and strangle him—saddling someone else with an arousal without an outlet other than his own hand wasn’t very polite!

 

Sam headed out into the lot and climbed up into the bed of his truck, allowing the cold metal to ease the worst of the burn of arousal. He pulled the Berretta from his waistband and tucked it away in the compartment in the bed of his truck, staring longingly at the other weapons piled inside before closing it back up and hopping out of the truck bed. 

 

Dean at first was soft with the kid. He was all over Dean though Dean remained in complete control of the kiss, the little bitch's mouth, and his body as Dean roughened the kiss. He bit the boy hard. Dean reached down, ripping open the boy’s pants and earning a sudden panicked gasp when he grabbed his cock. “Slow down!” the kid whispered into the kiss, but Dean kept moving. When the boy fought back, Dean held him hard.

 

The boy was much shorter, easily weaker, and much slower. Dean pulled back when the kid started fighting too much. He grabbed the boy’s throat, tightened his grip, and shoved him easily to the ground. The rest of the clothes were ripped and torn as the two struggled. 

 

“Fuck,” Sam groaned, leaning back against the side, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock before crawling into the cab. He quickly unfastened his pants and shoved a hand inside, gripping his aching arousal in a tight fist. Sam closed his eyes and let his head fall back on his shoulders, allowing flashes of vision to come to life behind his eyes. Powerful hands, soft, white skin, frightened eyes; blood surged in Sam’s cock, making his arousal buck in his fist as he slowly stroked himself. 

 

Normally Dean didn't bother with rape: it wasn't what got him going. This though, this was different. This wasn't a normal kill, this was him wanting someone and not being able to have them. His dick was hard and leaking, begging for attention. Dean yanked at buttons and his zippers to free it, but didn’t bother to kick his pants off.

 

He wrapped his hand so tightly around the kid's throat the boy went still, gasping for air. Dean rolled a condom on, shoved the boy's legs apart, and drove into him. No prep, not even spit. He took him dry and hard. 

 

The boy twisted in pure agony under him, pushing against Dean’s chest to try to get away and ease the pain. Dean held him down, ripping him wide open. The kid cried in spite of not being able to get much air in his lungs. It was just enough, though wasted because no one could hear him over the music inside. 

 

Dean’s hips slammed roughly into the other male's ass. Dark red bites, bleeding cuts, and scratches ran down his chest and along his arms from the boy’s struggles to get free. The boy’s sobbing fueled Dean, who ignored the begging and pleading pouring from the boy’s mouth.

 

Grunts and groans floated in through the open windows of Sam’s truck, fueling the burning lust burning in his belly. He stripped his cock fast, fist tight enough to almost be too much, keeping time with the driving hips he could see behind his eyes. All he ever saw was the rear view of his killer, never even so much as a hint as to what the guy looked like, and it usually frustrated Sam to no end.

 

Now, though, that rear view afforded Sam a view of the fast, angry thrust of hips, slightly bowed legs, muscles working hard as the guy drove into some poor bastard—and it was obvious that the victim was a guy this time. A profile shot of the victim tickled something in Sam’s mind, but he was too lost in lust to worry with it at the moment. The psychic video playing out in his head took over all of Sam’s awareness. The punching thrust of hips, the hands that scrabbled at his attacker, the clench of fingers at a soft neck, the tight heat of the young man being ridden like a beast all shoved its way to the forefront of Sam’s mind. He came with a cry, cock spitting thick ropes of come up his chest to streak his shirt.

 

Dean pulled out a pocket knife, taking it to the young man’s chest. He ripped away at the boy’s skin, cutting random, deep cuts into arms and chest, dragging the knife down his stomach and sides. He kept up the abusive, fast thrusts as he sliced into the boy, not missing one as he marked the little whore as his own. Dean was normally slower, enjoying himself, but not this time. He wanted it hard, quick, and over with because he had to get the fuck out of here.

 

Dean burst, exploding to fill the condom with wave after wave of hot, sticky come. “S-Sam,” he whispered in lust-filled, sharp breaths. He wanted to feel this good with the bartender, but why did he not want to hurt him? It made no sense! 

 

Sam’s eyes snapped open, breath stalling in his lungs. He could’ve sworn he’d heard his name in that rough, gravel voice of his killer. It wasn’t possible, couldn’t be possible, because that would mean that the guy knew who Sam was and could possibly come after him. Sam shoved his spent cock away, mind shying away from the fact that he’d jerked off to the vision of a killer raping some poor guy, strangling him. 

 

He tugged his shirt off and tossed it to the ground outside his window, and snagged his coat from the bench seat beside him. Sam tugged it on and dug the keys out of his pocket, then jammed them into the ignition and cranked the engine. It roared to life and he peeled out of the parking lot, heading to the small house he’d taken over as his own.

 

Dean heard the truck start up and had an odd feeling of Sam again. He stopped, suddenly panicked and unsure what to do. His eyes dropped to the bleeding, dying boy under him and he shook his head. He took the knife and slit the kid's throat without bothering to watch him bleed out this time. Dean took the boy's shirt, and wiped him clean of prints. He pulled the condom free, tied it off, and twisted it into the shirt before tucking himself in and getting up. He made his way to his car and quickly took off.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sam got to work the next evening, it was to the buzz of people talking about the murder victim that had been found just outside the roadhouse. Worry clamped tightly around Sam’s heart, afraid that the killer attached to him had somehow gotten so close while Sam was busy jerking off in his truck. It seemed that death brought out people, made them thirsty, eager to be in the same place as a murder victim had likely taken his last breath. The bar was packed by seven o’clock and Sam was running flat out to keep up with drink orders.

 

Dean ran a hand through his wet hair as he walked into the bar. It was raining a bit outside; remnants of the downpour last night. He was grateful for it because he'd been too fucking sloppy. He was never like that! He was sure most of the shit, if he left any behind, had been washed away before the body was even found.

 

So why the hell was he back if the idea of Sam was fucking with his head so much? He had no idea but it was driving him mad. Well, madder than he already was, anyway. He knew he was often off his rocker, but honestly he enjoyed it and he was never sorry. 

 

He’d had a dream last night, an oddity since he never dreamt of anything. It had sort of freaked him out when he woke up. Not just the fact he’d dreamt, but that it had been a very vivid dream of Sam. Sam had been lying under him in the boy’s place, twisting and whining, but clearly enjoying himself. He had begged so nicely for more, harder, faster, longer. Dean had come three times in the dream, and woken with the evidence in his pants.

 

Dean sat at the end of the bar by the corner wall, watching as Sam ran around like a crazy person trying to keep up with the drink orders. He slouched against the wall to watch the insanity going on around him, occasionally making sure Sam wasn’t noticing the frequent looks Dean gave him as he worked.

 

Ellen and Jo were busily running back and forth from the bar. Sam was filling orders as fast as possible, liquor and beer sloshing out of glasses when he tried to go too fast. “Ma!” Sam called out over the loud voices of the bar. “Call in Celia! I need some help back here!”

 

“Kinda busy, Sam!” Ellen called back, weaving gracefully through the packed tables, dodging drunken hands that tried to grab her ass.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam growled, scowling as he pulled three beers from the tap, his other hand fumbling for the phone screwed into the wall behind him. When he got it, he dialed Celia blindly and barked an order for her to show up pronto, also promising beer, food, and tips if she’d show up within ten minutes.

 

“Jo! Beers for table two!” Sam called, slamming the phone down on the bar and hurrying over to the guy from the night before. “Hey, sorry about that. Same as before? Scotch, right?”

 

Dean smirked, shaking his head. "Don't worry about me, I can wait. But yeah, whenever you get a second," he told him. He really wasn't there to drink, more to watch Sam, and Sam had a lot more impatient people to deal with than him.

 

“You’re a saint,” Sam answered with a wide grin. “Your first two are on me, as my thanks.” He winked and then hurried back to fill other orders, customers barking orders over the blare of music and other voices.

Despite the guy telling him to pretty much take his time, Sam poured a generous double shot of scotch while pulling another two beers from tap. He slid the beers across the bar to the two women making calf eyes at him, and then picked up the scotch and carried it down to the guy. “Maybe you’ll give me a name sometime tonight, so you’re not ‘that hot guy’ in my head, yeah?” he said, sliding the glass over and then hurrying back to fill more orders.

 

Saint, huh? He’d been called a lot of things but that was certainly a new one for him. Dean turned slightly, his eyes moving around the bar as talk of the murder and the scene found out back caught his attention. He rolled his eyes at some of the comments and just shook his head. People were very stupid; it often surprised even him most days. His attention was brought back to Sam, though, as he set the drink down and he smirked. "Thanks." He laughed softly. "I'll think about it," he called back with a smile.

 

Sam winked over at him, briefly, and then focused on filling orders, silently praying that Celia would hurry the fuck up and get there already. It was a prayer that Sam quickly regretted, however. Celia burst into the bar like an old west gunfighter; wild hair a riot of red curls about her face, pale skin shown off by denim short-shorts, a green tank top, and red cowgirl boots. She hurried around the bar and flung herself at Sam, laying smacking kisses on his cheek and leaving bright red lipstick smeared on his skin. “Sammy! Baby! Thanks for calling. I knew you couldn’t live without me!”

 

“Get off, Celia!” Sam growled, suddenly inexplicably angry with her for touching him. She always did it, and it always bugged him, but tonight it pissed him off. “We’re slammed and I’ve got to piss like a fucking racehorse, so can we skip the mauling tonight, please?”

 

“Sammy’s got a twist in his panties. It’s okay, baby boy; I’ll take care of you.” Celia giggled and bumped her hip against his thigh, hands moving quickly and competently to pull drafts.

 

“Gay, Celia, I’m gay. You’re not taking care of anything but the customers tonight. Thanks anyway.” Sam stalked off with another scotch and settled in to take care of his half of the bar, which just happened to be the half that had Hot Guy sipping at scotch.

 

Sam rested his elbows on the bar, grinning at Hot Guy. “You ready for another?”

 

Dean watched the exchange, a deep hatred growing for the bitch that smeared herself all over Sam. That was hardly fair, considering Dean wasn't anything to Sam beside a customer. Well, that and his apparent stalker. As Sam settled by him, he smirked. "Trying to get me drunk?" he joked as he leaned forward to finish his first drink and set the glass down. "Right on time, though." Dean was in the mood to get at least slightly drunk to calm both his nerves and the hard on that kept trying to drag his attention to another besides Sam. He cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you had to take a piss? Or were you just trying to get away from her?" He smirked.

 

“Trying to get away from her,” Sam confirmed and straightened up. He leaned back and found a bottle of scotch and filled the guy’s glass again. “Celia is a force of nature, or she likes to think she is. Personally, she’s an idiot; keeps thinking that she can seduce me straight.” He snorted and rolled his eyes, then wandered away a few feet to get a few more drinks for other customers.

 

"If that was even possible she would need a much better face to do it," he commented back and rolled his eyes as Sam moved away to the others. 

 

The red lipstick still smeared Sam’s cheek, smudged like blood on his skin rather than the kiss mark it was intended to look like. Sam kept rubbing his cheek on his shoulder, further smearing the lipstick rather than wiping it off. Dean dropped his eyes when he caught himself watching that red shit streak across Sam's cheek. Of course his mind went to blood—where else did it ever go?—and he was hit with a wave of… something, some feeling he didn't recall so he shrugged it away. He actually felt bad imagining it was Sam's blood. He rubbed his eyes, downing half the drink and turning away from Sam to anyone else in the bar.

 

Most of the night Sam could only spare a few moments here and there to top off Dean’s glass, never once charging him for it, and to pass back and forth a couple of lines of conversation. Celia rubbed up against Sam every chance she got, and Jo finally got sick of it.

 

The cat fight that had resulted was rather short. Jo wiped the floor with Celia, her silence a foil against Celia’s shrieking. The crowd found it amusing, until they realized that the tiny blonde actually knew what she was doing and then they started cheering.

 

Ellen ended up stepping in, and raised her voice above Celia’s screaming and swearing. “All right! Everybody out. Last call and get your asses out of my bar in twenty minutes!”

 

“Well, fuck,” Sam grumbled, pushing away from where he’d stopped to lean on the bar near Hot Guy. “You gonna hang around for awhile? If you’re hanging out with me, you won’t have to leave. I kinda want to know your name, though. So, free scotch in exchange for it?” he offered with a small smile.

 

Dean watched in mild amusement at the two girls going back and forth over Sam. Cat fights didn't do much for him, was and he would much rather cut Celia’s throat himself. He looked back at Sam and laughed softly. "Man, with all the drinks you've given me tonight, I would say I owe you more than a name," he answered. He could hold his alcohol easily enough, but he was feeling pretty good. Normally he didn't get drunk in public - just better that way – or drink when he was going after someone. Last night had been a rare exception. "But, since you’re inviting me, sure; and I’m Dean."

 

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” Sam said and shoved back, straightening again. “Sit tight and let me get rid of the asshats.” He dragged his eyes over Dean’s face and down his chest in a brief, fast once-over, and bit his lip as he turned away. “Maybe we can… chat.” With that, Sam hurried off to start filling last-call orders and get a line of cabs to the bar for the drunken customers.

 

Dean licked his lips, eyeing Sam in return. Easy enough to say they were both interested. He bit his bottom lip a moment before working through if he should stay or take off before this turned into something a lot worse than it was. Well, worse for Sam anyway, because he couldn't get used to Sam: that just wasn't going to happen. As far as Sam knew, Dean was normal and not dreaming about pinning him down and doing a shitload of different things to him over long periods of time. By the end of that thought, though, his dick and his head were in agreement and he didn’t move.

 

When the bar cleared out, Sam and Jo and Ellen split the chores. Sam got a cart and gathered up the empties, wiped down tables, and then flipped chairs up on top so Jo could sweep. Ellen was busy wiping down the bar and sending Ash home with what leftovers remained of the food he’d cooked.

 

Sam kept shooting looks at Dean, grinning to himself as he cleaned up. Jo bumped into him, smiling smugly. “Looks like your admirer’s planning to stick around,” she murmured lowly, nudging him with her shoulder. “Just be sure you’re safe and that he treats you like a lady.” She giggled when Sam shoved her playfully, his face flushed with embarrassment.

 

“Looks like my boy likes you,” Ellen said conversationally, wiping the bar in front of Dean. “Reckon he’s got good taste. Just hope that the inside’s as pretty as the outside.”

 

Dean's green eyes landed on Ellen, but he wasn't really sure what to say to her. He had seen her with the girls when they were fighting and with the drunks in the bar the last few days. She had an attitude about her. Reminded him of his mom, actually, and that didn't surprise him because he'd dug up a few things about the place: it was a hunter's haven. He assumed that she was also a hunter. Most women tried to play a don't-fuck-with-me attitude but not many outside the hunting world really pulled it off. Not that he'd been a part of it in some time, but it wasn't a community that you forgot either. "I'll take that as a compliment and a warning, ma'am," he said with an honest smile, tipping his glass to her.

 

A grin tugged at one corner of Ellen’s mouth and she nodded at him. “Sammy, head out. I’ll finish that up. Be sure to get your ass in here an hour early tomorrow; you’re gonna train Ash at the bar so we don’t have to drag Celia back in.”

 

“You’re awesome, ma,” Sam said and tossed aside the rag he’d been using to wipe up tables with, left the cart and Jo’s incredulous glare behind as he made his way over to Dean.

 

“You’re letting him off? How is that fair?” Jo demanded with her hands fisted on her hips and arms akimbo. “You don’t do that for me when I’ve got a date.”

 

“Because most of the men you date are assholes; Mr. Cutie over here is actually polite. Now get back to work, Joanna Beth,” Ellen shot back and cast a wink at Dean and Sam.

 

“You ready to head out, Dean?” Sam asked, stripping off the apron that hung about his hips and transferring the tips from his apron pocket to the pocket of his jeans.

 

Dean chuckled softly and got up from the bar. "Thanks,” he offered to Sam's mom. See, Ellen he liked, Jo… not so much. Well, not at all actually. He nodded towards Sam as he got up and finished the last bit of his drink. "Born ready," he answered as he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door with Sam. 

 

He didn't actually know what they were going to do, but in his mind it ended up with both of them very naked. Now, Dean wouldn't come out and say that to Sam but he was fairly sure with the looks he had caught a few times from Sam, the feeling was pretty mutual. Once outside he pulled his jacket on and turned to Sam. "So, I'm already half drunk, what's the plan?" he asked, cracking a smile and raising his eyebrows.

 

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and nudged Dean’s shoulder with his own. “I was actually going to invite you to spend the night with me, if you were okay with that. I’ll bring you back in the morning to get your car.”

 

"Dude, I thought I was going to have to be subtle about it, but, fuck, I've been imaging pinning you to a bed all night," Dean said as he bumped against Sam. "Where's your car?"

 

“Right over here,” Sam said, pointing at the faded blue pickup sitting at the corner of the lot near the side of the building. “My place is about two miles down; think you can wait that long?”

 

Dean followed Sam towards the pickup and he nodded. "I'm pretty sure I can," he answered, licking his lips. "Of course, if you can promise to get it back up in less than five minutes, I'll blow you on the way to your place." 

 

Sam pressed a hand to his arousal and gritted his teeth. “I’ve got no problems with stamina and recovery time, but if you blow me we’re gonna wreck. I drive a stick,” he replied and jerked open the driver’s side door. “Just slide across, there’s a mud puddle on the other side.”

 

"The danger is the fun part." Christ knew that for Dean any chance of getting caught or getting killed added to the pleasure. It shot him to places people wouldn't dream of in their worst nightmares or greatest dreams. "Besides, my mouth isn't the only part of me that's talented." He got into the truck and slide over to the passenger’s side, his eyes back on Sam as he turned.

 

“Keep talking like that and we’ll end up fucking on the side of the road.” Sam paused in the act of getting into the truck and smirked. “Not like that’s a bad thing. But, my bed is much more comfortable. Hell, if you’re up to the challenge, I’ve got an entire house we can fuck all over—I intend to bend you over at least once and fuck you until you can’t walk straight. Fair warning,” he said as he got in and closed the door, firing up the engine with a deft turn of the key.

 

"At this rate, you'll be lucky if I let you get through your front door," Dean joked, leaning back against his seat. He had been imaging Sam since he set eyes on him last night. He'd done everything but fuck him at this point, between calling out his name while fucking someone else and jerking off to ideas of him. He reached down and adjusted himself, shamelessly. "Two miles you said?" he asked. "I can make it two miles… if I have to."

 

Sam wound through the gears as fast as he could, and once he’d shoved it into fifth, his hand slid over the seat to grip Dean’s thigh. He stroked the back of his fingers over the hot line of Dean’s dick, sheathed in heavy denim, and kept his eyes on the road. “No neighbors, miles of nothing; can fuck as loud as we want, out in the fucking grass and up against the side of the truck, if you want.” Sam had never been more thankful that he’d picked an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere than he was right then; apparently Dean was as insatiable as Sam was, which meant good things for the night.

 

Dean shuddered as Sam's hand slid over his thigh and he found himself sliding back across the front seat until his body was close and up against Sam's side. He bit as his ear, sucking it into his mouth affectionately. He was going on instincts he didn't even know he had as his nails roughly dragged themselves down Sam's body, tugging and scratching the muscles just under Sam's shirt. He wondered how Sam liked it, soft and sweet or hot and rough? He was praying for the second but he would take the first if he had to with no complaints.

 

“Fuck,” Sam gasped and turned his hand, blatantly groping Dean’s cock through his jeans. His eyes searched frantically along the road, looking for the turn off—there! He slid his hand over to the gear shift and put it in neutral as he slowed and made the turn, shoving the truck back into second as they bounced along the long gravel driveway. “Fuck, bite me; love it,” he babbled, sliding his hand along the inside of Dean’s thigh to squeeze firmly at Dean’s rock hard dick.

 

Dean bit harder into the skin of Sam's ear and moved down to his neck, leaving deep red, angry marks in his wake. The little encouragement was all he needed as his hand found Sam's hard dick, manhandling it through his jeans. He moaned in the back of his throat.

 

Sam tasted like sex and salt. It burst over his tongue, clean and hot, needy and delicious. He needed to taste Sam, wanted to rip his pants off right there and swallow him down like a starving man.

 

The truck skidded to a stop in the driveway and Sam jerked his foot off of the clutch, killing the engine with a sharp jolt. “Yeah, oh God, like that,” Sam moaned and turned in the seat, hauling Dean up against him. He tipped his head to the side, thumping it against the open window frame as he tried to roll his hips up into Dean’s grip. His hands found Dean’s ass and gripped it tightly, fingers digging in rough and almost painful. “Gonna fuck me right here?” he gasped. “Raw and dry and fucking perfect?”

 

Dean reached down, gripping Sam tightly as his dick twitched and begged for attention. He nodded into the other man's neck. He bit harder and felt the skin fill with blood, sucked the pain away and did it again.

 

"God, yes!" he yelled as he felt nails digging into his skin. He pushed back into the painful grip. He shoved Sam's legs apart, ripping at the jeans. The button and zipper came easily apart in his hand before he worked the pants down Sam's legs.

 

Sam bucked his hips, aiding Dean in getting his pants down and out of the way. He slid one hand to Dean’s button, clawing at the material, jerking Dean’s jeans open. He shoved a hand inside, curled his fist around Dean’s cock, and groaned in the back of his throat. “Fuck, Dean,” he moaned, shoving Dean’s jeans down just enough to free his dick. 

 

Dean growled, dropping his mouth to lick along Sam's dick and took it into his mouth for a few seconds. Just enough to get a sample and get rid of the digging need in his belly to taste this man. He gave Sam's thighs a rough shove, parting them, and kept them apart with his own body as Sam stroked his dick. Pushing Sam’s hand out of the way, Dean gripped his dick, positioned himself, and entered Sam; no prep and no hesitation. The muscles spasmed in response to the sudden intruder and his dick twitched in reply.

 

“Fuck,” Sam moaned at length, face twisted with pain and flushed with pleasure as Dean shoved brutally into him. He gripped Dean’s ass in both hands, dragged his knees up high to take Dean as deep as possible, and yanked, eager for the knife-edge of painful pleasure as muscles too long unused were stretched wide. “Yeah, oh fuck, Dean,” he panted, nipping roughly along Dean’s neck, along his jaw, leaving behind bruises in the shape of his teeth.

 

Sam reacted exactly how Dean had hoped, and it drove Dean to shove deeper and deeper into Sam. Reaching his free hand down, he gripped Sam's left hip and brought him in to match the brutal thrusts of his own hips. Furrows of pain ran over his skin in the trail Sam was leaving, causing his dick to leak and cranking up his arousal even more. He gripped Sam's dick in his free hand, working at him. He drew moans of pleasure with his hand and grunts of pain with his dick, and felt Sam splitting open wide under him. Dean dropped his head, catching Sam's mouth with his own, and sucked hard at his lips to leave them bruised and swollen.

 

The bench seat of the truck wasn’t very spacious, but it was plenty big enough for this. Sam gasped and groaned into Dean’s mouth, fucking up into the tight grip and then back and down onto Dean’s cock. Sweaty hips slapped softly against the insides of Sam’s thighs in the near silent truck, mingling with the grunts and groans from each of them. Sam keened, bucked, and his cock spit thick ropes of come up his chest, teeth bearing down into Dean’s lip as he came.

 

Dean shoved into Sam hard. Sam’s muscles ground down on his cock, and a scream of pleasure ripped from the back of Dean’s throat. He gripped Sam tightly, milking his dick for everything it had to give him as he spilled his load into Sam. Waves of come pelted the walls inside Sam's ass as his dick spasmed and filled Sam full, no room to spare. He growled deeply and pulled out, then ducked his head to lick along Sam's dick as he finished, still trying to feed the desire to taste all of him.

 

“Jesus fuck,” Sam panted, hands flying down to stroke through Dean’s hair. His over-sensitized cock twitched as Dean’s tongue slid over it, spitting a few more small wads of come. “Dean, fuck, gimme a minute to recover.” He fisted his hands in Dean’s shirt and dragged him back up, claiming that gorgeous mouth with his own in a hungry, breathless kiss.

 

"Needed to taste you," Dean confessed. He smirked against Sam’s mouth and kissed him back, lips crushing into Sam's. Dean kissed him deeply, licked at the inside of Sam's mouth, chased Sam's tongue with his own. His hands came down to roam over his body and grip at his skin; lust deep in his eyes and that hungry desire still not satisfied.

 

Sam groaned into the hard kiss, hands sliding down Dean’s back to grip his naked ass, fingers teasing the divide, dipping in to stroke over Dean’s hole. “Come on, come on; wanna get you inside, fuck you hard until you scream my name.” 

 

Dean groaned, pushing back into the probing fingers and then reached for his pants to pull them back up and get out of the truck. He was already itching for Sam to be inside and ride him. He wanted that burn and his body was screaming for it, the very idea of it caused his dick to twitch with interest in spite of how hard he'd just come.

 

Sam reluctantly let go of Dean and grabbed his own pants from the floorboard, yanking them on. They got out of the truck and Sam grabbed hold of Dean and ate at his mouth, hands gripping Dean’s ass firmly as he walked them backward to the house.

 

It was run down and old, but the repairs Sam had made to it made it livable for the most part. He’d hotwired the house for power, put in a new water heater, and tapped into a cable line that ran down the road from his house. It was a faded white clapboard house with an old porch and cement basement that had been turned into a storage room for his weapons. The main floor was just a wide living room with a bathroom off to one side, a kitchen and two bedrooms.

 

Sam pushed Dean up against the side of the house beside the front door, and fumbled for the house key while he devoured Dean’s lips, eating at them hungrily, licking his way inside as though he had every right to claim each inch of it.

 

Dean didn’t fight the claim Sam was making. His hands held onto Sam tightly, clinging to him with want as he opened his mouth to invite the tongue into his mouth. He groaned and his dick hardened. He shoved into Sam, grinding against him hard, wrapping his arms around Sam's body. He licked and sucked, bit and nipped, pulling at Sam's tongue and lips with his mouth, drawing all of him that he could. He didn't take much notice to the house other then the part of the building that was shoved up against his back keeping him in place against Sam's hard body at the moment.

 

“So hot,” Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, shoving the front door open and then pulling Dean in with him. “Been thinking about this since I saw you last night, wanted to drag you around the building and fuck you until you screamed.”

 

Dean smirked and followed Sam inside, his hands still clawing at the other man like there was a demon possessing his body. "Kidding me? You're lucky I didn't get you over top of the bar within the first ten seconds." 

 

“Fuck, now I’m never going to look at that bar the same again; I’ll just keep picturing you bending me over it and fucking me stupid,” Sam moaned and then upped his pace, all but dragging Dean into his bedroom. 

 

He didn’t bother with the light, just pulled Dean closer and kicked the door closed. The massive California king bed took up most of the room, draped in thick silky sheets the color of a night sky, blankets shoved down at the foot from where Sam had kicked them off earlier. “Maybe I can snag Mom’s keys and we can make that idea a reality,” he murmured, pulling back to tug at Dean’s clothes, cock already aching again at the front of his jeans.

 

"Fucking hot," Dean agreed. "Even if you can't, I can pick locks." He laughed as he was pulled into the bedroom. He moved his hands down and pulled his shirt up over his head, reaching for Sam to do the same. They'd fucked but he had yet to see that beautiful body cruelly hidden under shirts and jackets so far. He dropped his hand down Sam's back, reaching into the back of his jeans and gripping tightly at his ass, pushing his dick against Sam's and begging for more.

 

Hunter. It slipped through Sam’s mind like water, filed away for later. It never occurred to him that anyone else might have that particular talent, have that same leashed violence about them like Dean did. Hunters were all Sam had ever known. 

 

Dean had been a hunter. He and his mom until she was killed on a hunt and then all hell broke loose. Take a hunter and put them in a house with normal parents and kids, didn't fucking work as most people soon found out. Didn't matter now, though; long time ago, never knew who dad was and Dean lost the idea of helping people now that his mom was dead. 

 

Sam shrugged out of his shirt, and then pulled the tee shirt up and over his head with Dean’s help, letting it drop from his fingers as he worked on Dean’s jeans, allowing Dean to work on Sam’s. “How do you want it?” he asked. “Not everyone likes being fucked hard and raw like I do, so how do you want it?”

 

"As hard as you can give it to me," he said honestly, because as much as Dean loved to make people scream he loved to feel that agony and burn, too. Not that he found many people with enough balls to dish it out the way he did, but on those rare moments, it was nice.

 

A predatory grin slid over Sam’s lips and he pushed Dean back onto the bed, yanked at the other man’s pants, and threw them to the floor. His own pants slid to the floor with a quick shove of his hands, and then Sam crawled onto the bed, between Dean’s thighs, and bent, suckling Dean’s cock into his mouth. Dean bucked up into his mouth and gasped. He twisted his hand into the blankets and wiggled his body, urging more attention and pushing down, wanting Sam to fuck him. It felt good, the wetness and the heat of Sam's mouth, but he wanted more.

 

Sam drew off with a slurp and shoved Dean’s legs up and apart, holding him wide open. “Needed to taste you,” he parroted back and then positioned himself between Dean’s legs, cock pressed against the tight, dry opening. Hazel-green eyes latched onto Dean’s green as he pushed firmly into Dean’s ass, groaning when the head popped through the tight ring, and then slammed his hips forward, burying himself in one hard thrust. “Fuck.”

 

"Fuck!" Dean screamed and pushed down hard, impaling himself on Sam's dick. His hole was stretched painfully wide but his dick was hard and leaking, the pain fueling it even more as he twisted. He writhed, hands reaching up to grab Sam and keep him inside, deeply buried. His muscles protested but he loved it. "Sam, Sam, Sam," he yelled and urged.

 

“You like that?” Sam asked with his hands braced on the backs of Dean’s knees, resting his weight on them as he slowly drew back only to slam forward again, balls bouncing off of Dean’s ass. “Stuffed so full, Dean, deep inside you,” he moaned, and drew back again, setting a hard, rough pace that scooted Dean slowly up the bed.

 

"Yes! Love it!" Dean confessed, wanting more and more, grunting and groaning with which thrust that Sam gave him. Sam kept hitting his prostate, but more than that, the deep burn and ache that settled deep in his ass as his hole stretched and took whatever Sam gave him. He reached up, trying to push himself up and take Sam's mouth but missed and settled for leaving bites and scratches down his chest and lower neck.

 

Sam dragged Dean’s legs up over his shoulders, leaned down, and fed at Dean’s mouth like a hungry animal. The position lifted Dean’s ass higher off of the bed, pushing him up into Sam’s vicious thrusts, opening Dean up for everything Sam wanted to give him. Sam licked and bit Dean’s lips, along his jaw, bit down hard enough to just break the skin in the curve where shoulder and neck met. He groaned as the rusty copper taste burst in his mouth, lapping at the small wounds tenderly as he reamed Dean’s ass.

 

The painful sting in his neck caused Dean to buck violently and he was done and down for the count as his cock started spitting waves of come up his chest and Sam's belly. He didn't need any attention to his dick, not when Sam was fucking him like this. Sam was huge and every thrust hit so hard Dean could taste it in the back of his throat. He thrashed and twisted, growled and begged, pure filth dripping from his mouth. He was so far along he had no idea what he was saying, where his hands and mouth were and furthermore, he didn't give a fuck. Nothing mattered but Sam and his dick buried deep inside him; too much and nowhere near enough.

 

The painfully tight cinch of Dean’s ass around him sent Sam’s hips pistoning faster, harder. He held himself back, though, nowhere near ready to find his release. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock,” Sam gasped out through gritted teeth, holding back through sheer force of will. He fucked Dean through his orgasm, and then slowed to a more leisurely pace. “Gonna fuck you hard again, watch you come apart, and then fill you up with my come,” he promised in a filthy whisper.

 

Dean had never come apart like that before and he let his head fall back, shocked for a minute as Sam's voice drew him out of it. He blinked, embarrassed, but hearing Sam's voice and what he was saying had his mind perking with too much interest for him to care that he came faster than a fourteen year old would have. He gasped and drove himself down on Sam's dick, wanting it. "Christ, you feel so good in me," he whispered. "Best thing I ever felt."

 

Sam slowed further, a languid pace, so that Dean could feel the drag and push of each inch sliding in and out of him. “Should’ve warned you that it takes longer for me to come after the first time, but I wanted to see the surprise on your face when I proved it.”

 

Dean sighed, his body coming down at the slower and gentler pace. At least compared to what it had been before he had come. He laughed softly, his head falling back and looking up and back into Sam's dark eyes. "You can fuck me all night if you want to," he laughed.

 

“I won’t push it all night long, even though I really would like to; work tomorrow and I’m sure you’ve got work to do too.” Sam kept his pace easy and slow, though he gradually built his pace up a bit, just enough to draw small gasps from his throat.

 

Dean sighed. "Nah, just passing through," he said softly as Sam's dick brushed over his prostate. A shock of pleasure burned deep in the pit of his stomach. He licked his lips and took a few deep breaths, settling himself. Besides, they always had tomorrow night, right? Wasn't like Dean couldn't stick around, for now, anyway.

 

Sam pulled back slowly and then slammed in hard, remained still and deeply buried in Dean’s ass. He shifted Dean’s legs off of his shoulders and leaned down, lips brushing softly over Dean’s as he spoke. “Hunter?” he asked softly, his tongue tracing Dean’s lips, dipping just barely inside before backing off. “Or just wandering?”

 

"Not for a long time," Dean answered, his fist gripping into the blankets and his body shuddering at the sudden and harsh impact. "Just kind of passing through, I guess." It was a good a way of putting it as any. In fact, he still was a hunter, just not the kind that Sam was referring to.

 

Sam hummed and slid his arms under Dean’s back, rolled them over so that Dean was sitting up on his hips. “Ride me, then. If I’m gonna have to let you go back on the road, I need to see you riding me first.”

 

Dean leaned back once he was on top of Sam to push up and back down, the new position and angle causing an all new feeling to enter his body. He groaned and reached back, keeping himself balanced easier with his hands flat on the bed.

 

“Fuck,” Sam breathed in awe, pushing Dean’s legs wider apart, watching raptly as Dean’s ass devoured his dick. “Wish you could see this, watch how my cock just vanishes into your ass. Jesus fuck, Dean!” Sam grabbed Dean’s hips, urging him into a faster pace, bucking his hips up a bit to meet Dean’s downward thrust.

 

Dean pushed up and down faster, riding Sam hard and moaning. The two fell into sync with one another. Sam’s dick drove home, slamming into the same spot again and again and driving Dean insane slowly. Dean gasped, losing himself in the thick cock crammed deep inside him. He bit his bottom lip and reached down to grip Sam tighter.

 

Sam gripped Dean’s cock, stroking him slowly, in opposition of the nearly brutal bounce of Dean’s body on his cock. Sam babbled filth at Dean, unable to keep his running commentary silent. “So tight, hot around my cock; fuck, Dean, so gorgeous. Gonna make you come, watch you spill all over yourself, flood your ass with my come.”

 

Dean shifted, his ass coming down on Sam's dick and thrust himself forward into Sam's fist. "God, you are the most amazing person I've ever met. Sam. Shit I want to do to you… shouldn't even be legal." He gasped broken and shallow breaths. "Going to paint you with my come and mark you and make sure everyone knows who you belong to, Sammy," he promised.

 

“Yeah, hell yeah, Dean,” Sam panted, spreading his legs and propping his feet on the bed, shoving his hips up higher, fucking Dean with more speed, strength. “Do it, fuck, Dean, do it!”

 

Dean shoved himself down so hard on Sam that he screamed, pleasure ripping through him like a lightning bolt. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, tasting his own blood in his mouth. He reached down, dragging his nails on Sam’s chest, digging them into Sam's nipples and down his belly, leaving angry tracks of blood.

 

Sam’s eyes widened, nostrils flared, and his mouth opened in a gasp. “More! Fuck. G-gonna come, fuck Dean, gonna come inside you!” he warned, hands moving to Dean’s hips and forcefully making Dean slam down hard on his cock, hips bucking and held high off of the bed, cramming every inch of his cock into Dean’s ass.

 

Dean wished he could get even more of Sam inside him: he wanted everything. "Do it, Sam, want to feel it, feel you come apart in me; want it," he gasped. He shoved down hard, trying to draw the come and the screams from Sam as he angled himself on Sam dick so it hit his prostate again and again, the need to come driven even further by the stokes of Sam's hand. Soon he threw his head back and come began pouring out of him again, painting Sam’s chest and face.

 

The stinging burn of salty come seeping into the scratches on Sam’s chest and the overwhelmingly tight, hot clench of Dean’s ass sent Sam careening over the edge, hips snapping irregularly, roughly, into Dean. “D-Dean,” he gasped, strangled, and came hard, flooding Dean’s ass. His hips slowed, cock squelching quietly as he dropped his hips back to the bed and dragged Dean down on his chest. Sam panted and scrubbed a hand over his face, gathering up the splatters of come and licking his hand clean. 

 

Dean's body, spent and tired, relaxed. He was full of Sam and Sam’s come. He took a deep breath, taking in Sam's scent and kissing along his chest and neck, almost nuzzling him a few moments before settling against him. He opened his eyes, finally, and took a deep breath, unwilling and unable to move right then. That was the best sex he had ever had, and Dean had a hell of a lot of sex to begin with but Sam… holy fuck Sam was perfect.

 

Sam, for his part, was astonishingly relaxed for a change. Never once, while he’d been with Dean, had he had even the faintest vision of murder and death, rape or torture. Dean, it seemed, was Sam’s good luck charm. And he was going to leave soon. Sam sighed and stroked his hands down Dean’s back, simply reveling in the reprieve for as long as he’d have it. “Spend the night with me?” he asked softly. One night stands generally didn’t sleep over, but Sam was determined to have at least one night where he wouldn’t have to worry about waking up screaming or achingly hard.

 

"Couldn't pay me to get out of this bed," Dean groaned honestly as he finally moved and rolled over to land on the bed at Sam's side. Dean always had a raging burn and hate inside him, one of the many reasons he would torture and murder people in cold blood. That and kicks, but that was different. Right now, if he hurt someone it would be because he wanted to, not because he had to. It was weird, though; he was relaxed and even happy in that moment and he sighed, content and comfortable. He curled an arm around Sam's waist and pulled him in closer to hold onto him, needing the feeling of the warmth, closeness and sanity.

 

A wide smile slid over Sam’s face and he rolled onto his side, cuddling up against Dean. It was strange to feel so calm and easy with a stranger—Sam was a hunter, he didn’t trust very easily—but this felt right. He slung a leg over Dean’s hips and tucked him close, kissing the top of Dean’s head as he settled in. “Good thing I’d pay more to keep you right where you are tonight.”

 

Dean tucked his face into Sam's neck and held onto him, licking his lips. He nodded his head and laughed softly. Dean never got close to anyone: he never fucked someone more than once, first of all, and he sure the hell never stayed overnight, but right then he didn't want to move. He didn't want to be away from Sam. Sam would have been wonderful at his side, Sam could easily kill. He could feel it and smell it under his skin. Sam was just like him, if he’d just give into it. He pressed his lips together and shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts and his opinion. Dean never trusted anyone, but he could be okay with Sam—even if he knew who and what he was—sleeping beside him. That's what Dean was telling himself before, again, dismissing the thoughts and the confusion of the night.

 

“Night, Dean,” Sam murmured, feeling languid and satisfied in a way he hadn’t felt before. The feeling seemed to resonate, bouncing around in his mind and body as though feeling two separate sets of emotion that were twined together. If only he knew how close that approximation was.

 

Shifting into Sam's body he closed his eyes and ran a hand through Sam's hair. "Night," he whispered, slipping into a relaxed and comfortable sleep. The type of night’s sleep he hadn't ever known before, Sam trailing behind him by mere minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

The following days were little more than a blur of the bar and nights spent with Dean. Sam dragged Dean home every night, and they’d fuck like a pair of horny rabbits on a honeymoon. Sam slept deeply, soundly, but an itch was slowly building up under his skin. He felt the need to do something, but he couldn’t figure out just what it was. So, like any sane, hot-blooded male, Sam enticed Dean into more and more sex. The sex made the itch die down; bank into a low thrum, but it would climb back up to irritating levels within just a few hours.

 

Today, Sam had managed to keep Dean in bed all day, fucking, talking, eating take-out, and pretty much being lazy between bouts of frantic fucking–it was far too rough and raw to be lovemaking, and Sam shied from the word simply because Dean wasn’t… Dean wasn’t the kind of guy for romantic notions like that. Sam’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of the roadhouse, almost a full hour before opening. Dean sat on the passenger’s side, fingers scraping against Sam’s denim-clad thigh as though he could feel the itch biting at Sam’s skin.

 

“Think we’ve got time for a quickie behind the bar before I have to go in and start training Ash?” he asked, moving Dean’s hand to his already aching cock. He was a bit surprised that he didn’t have calluses on his dick, much as he’d been using it the last four days.

 

Dean had been here a lot longer than he had planned: he hadn't been back to his motel room or even his car much in the last few days. His body was covered, like Sam’s, in bruises, bite marks, and scratches. The last four days had been great, really; he’d been happy and he looked forward to spending his time with Sam but… he needed to get back on the road soon. He didn't want to leave Sam, but he was restless here. He wanted very much to get out, travel, and get on with his…. Well, wasn't really that he could call it work, but regardless, it was who he was and Sam, as relaxing as he was, didn't feed that addiction or need. 

 

As he pushed against Sam, Dean thought about leaving. He thought about asking Sam to join him but knew that wouldn't go over well. Then again, nothing Sam did or said ever led him to believe anything else than what he first was hit with when it came to Sam and his personality. He wasn't normal or sane: he might have had a firmer grip on playing boy next door than Dean did, but that was only where the rest of the world could see him. Dean smirked. "Of course, I know the perfect place," he mumbled without thinking, pushing his door open to pull Sam from the truck.

 

“Perfect place, huh? Now I’m all aflutter with curiosity. Lead the way, oh god of perfect places for hot sex,” Sam said jokingly, but followed Dean without qualm. The itch to do something, the need to get moving, do something crazy, flooded over Sam’s skin. He needed Dean, needed to fuck him, to make the crazed desire to lash out and rip something apart go away before it took him over.

 

As Sam followed Dean in the hazy darkness of early evening, he noticed something strange. Sam’s hand slid out of Dean’s and he slowed, eyes widening as he watched Dean’s back, watched him move, walk, and it hit Sam like a ton of bricks: He hadn’t felt the killer in his head lately, hadn’t seen murder and torture because the man himself had been with him, fucking him, being fucked in Sam’s bed, his shower, on the floor in front of the television, on the kitchen counter…. Sam stopped and stared, open mouthed, at Dean.

 

Dean headed towards the back and a laugh on his lips as he headed to where he had killed the other young man five nights before. He wouldn't hurt Sam, no more than Sam wanted to be hurt of course. He would never hurt Sam like he did his victims, he would never rape or abuse him, murder or torture him. Again, no more than what Sam demanded or begged for. Still, though, he needed to hurt someone and soon, and this was about the closest he would get tonight. It was in his blood to hunt and kill and in his soul and heart to own and destroy. Everyone had a reason to live: Dean’s was to kill and his victims’ was to be the animals he slaughtered. Everyone just needed to play their roles. Had some force wanted him stopped surely it would have happened by now. In fact, one day would be his last and, of course, that was why he lived his life as he wanted now. 

 

He realized at once that Sam had stopped, not hearing his foot steps behind him anymore. He turned and cocked an eyebrow. A look of shock had come across Sam's features and Dean frowned, unsure what the problem was. He turned slightly; maybe Sam was bothered by where Dean had been leading him? Maybe he had been wrong in his assumption of Sam–no, that was impossible, that he was sure of. Instead of asking though, he simply stared back.

 

“Holy fuck, it’s you,” Sam said, astounded, and then strode up to Dean, taking Dean’s face between his hands and simply staring at him. “You’re… it’s you, Dean. Holy fuck,” he breathed, and then latched onto Dean’s mouth like a starving man.

 

"Me?" Dean asked, confused and slightly taken aback by the look in Sam's eyes. It was as if he saw… Dean didn't even know what. He pressed his lips together and then opened his mouth to say something, only for Sam to take his mouth suddenly. His hands fell to Sam's hips, confusion still in his eyes and mind.

 

Sam shoved Dean up against the side of the building, hungry for his mouth. That one instant of realization had sparked something deep in Sam’s gut, had torn at his grip on sane and normal. He was set adrift in a sea of Dean: flickers of every murder, torture session, and violent surge of lust flared behind Sam’s eyes and he groaned like he was dying for it. “You’re him, mine, oh God, should’ve known. Mine, mine, fuck, only mine,” he babbled, tearing at Dean’s clothes.

 

Dean, back against the wall, had no idea what Sam was going on about and was still in shock as Sam tore and ripped at his clothes. He pressed against Sam's body hard and saw a dark lust and desire in Sam's eyes. He had never seen that before, not like this. Sam could get pretty fucked up in the bedroom, best Dean ever had or given, but this…. "Who…? S-Sam, who am I–I don't know…."

 

“I’ve seen it, watched as you did it,” Sam gasped, shoving their jeans down, pressing their cocks together, gripping both in his palm and stroking firmly. His eyes never left Dean’s. “Every single night I dreamed it, stood behind you, watched you rip them apart, torture them, listened to you laugh, felt you get hard and watched you fuck. God, Dean, mine, mine, mine,” he chanted, bucking his hips into his grasp, fucking up against Dean’s cock.

 

Dean's eyes widened as Sam spoke and he shook his head. "H-how did you… oh God," he started but the fist around his dick drew his attention away from his question, though his eyes remained on Sam. He watched the look of pleasure and excitement wash over Sam’s face and his breath quickened. How did Sam know these things about what he did, and why did Dean believe him? He knew Sam before he had ever laid eyes on him and he knew he wasn't lying. "Knew that I knew you."

 

“Mine,” Sam growled and surged forward, devouring Dean’s mouth in a brutal kiss. Teeth clacked together, tore at lips, smeared bloody kisses over pale, freckled skin. His free hand slid around behind Dean, crammed two fingers into the tight, dry hole and fucked him slow and hard. “Connected; mine, Dean, always mine.”

 

Dean could taste the blood, hot and bitter and he fought against Sam's lips lapping and sucking at the small but bloody wounds. His hands reached around and he dug his nails into the flesh of Sam's back, ripping and tearing at him like an animal that had been caged for months. He nodded his head in agreement. "Always have been," he growled. Sam had been his in Dean's mind since before they’d met and even more now. "Found you, never letting you go," he snarled.

 

Sam groaned into Dean’s mouth and snugged his hips right up against Dean’s, fingers pumping furiously into Dean’s ass. It never occurred to Sam that going along with Dean, fucking him even after he realized just what and who Dean was, might be a bad idea. It never struck him as wrong in the slightest bit. A year or two ago, it might’ve made him pale to know he’d fucked and been fucked by a serial killer, but now it just made his cock ache to be buried deep in Dean’s ass again. “Turn around, gonna fuck you, baby,” he moaned, yanking his fingers free.

 

The slight burn drove Dean crazy and it made him remember how great Sam's cock was compared to his fingers. Dean's hand gripped Sam's shirt and he let his head fall back against the wall behind him. The two were insane, so much so that they were more or less made for one another. Dean had been right; Sam was just like him. He kicked at his jeans, lowering them, and turned, pressing back against Sam’s chest, urging him to get started, burning to feel Sam deep inside him again. “Do it; fuck me, fuck me," he chanted, wanting Sam to hurry, needing to feel it, aching for it. Wanting it so badly it hurt.

 

Without another second spared, Sam nudged the head of his cock up against Dean’s still puffy hole, and drove home, burying himself completely in Dean’s ass with a low groan. “God, so good, baby; all mine, you hear me? No one will ever fuck you again. Gonna go with you, baby, gonna watch you, help you, and fuck your tight little ass until you beg. Might even fuck you while you’re ripping them apart.”

 

"Knew you were mine the moment I laid eyes on you, Sam. Just like me, baby; going to bathe you in their blood and fuck you so hard you'll come apart for me every night." The power, the control, the torture and the pain; it was so much and not enough. All of a sudden, someone to share it with was an idea he had never thought of but now couldn't live without. He yelled out, Sam's cock ripping into him and he thrust back, needing it harder and faster, groaning deep in the back of his throat and letting his head fall back against Sam’s shoulder.

 

Sam growled and buried his teeth in Dean’s neck, deep and hard, like a dog worrying a bone. His hips slammed forward, yanked back, and buried him deep again. It was fast, furious, nearly animalistic fucking that let Sam’s head swim as he lost himself in the primal need to fuck and claim and take.

 

Dean reached around and gripped Sam's ass. The pounding in and out of him hurt and it drove his dick hard into the wall as he cried out in pure and blissful pleasure. Every thrust was driving him deeper and deeper to a place he'd never found before, never knew. Now he understood that only Sam could get him there. "Fuck, yes, do it," he demanded, pushing hard against Sam, fighting against the pressure, and trying to milk more pain and pleasure from Sam's dick.

 

Another growl and Sam’s teeth broke the skin, blood welling up, painting his teeth in coppery red. One hand slid around and gripped Dean’s dick, stripping him fast and roughly as he fucked in harder. “Gonna come,” he snarled, dragging sharp teeth up Dean’s neck, digging in just hard enough to bruise. “God, gonna come!” Dean was tense and jerking with each bite and thrust. Every sound that came from Sam made his dick pulse and his asshole twitch. He dropped his head, forehead hitting the wooden wall in front of him and the hand wrapping around his dick sent shocks and sparks of pleasure from his balls to his brain and right back down again. Pleasure built in Dean's balls but he couldn't vocalize it, couldn't force the understanding past his lips.

 

Sam rammed his hips forward, buried himself to the hilt, and came with a rough cry of Dean’s name, filling him to the point that it dripped back out around his cock, dribbled down Dean’s thighs. “Fuck, fuck, Dean. Come on, baby,” he panted, working his hips as he stroked Dean faster, flicking his thumb over the drooling head of Dean’s dick.

 

Dean exploded hard, painting the wall in his come. It spilled over his dick and onto Sam's fist. "Sam, Sam, Sam!" he screamed demandingly. He could feel Sam's come running down his thighs, his cock softening inside him. He gasped, bucked and tried to milk everything that Sam had to give. His ass was swollen and his voice was rough and hoarse from the groaning and yelling.

 

“Yeah, baby, yeah, so good for me,” Sam crooned, stroking slower and easing Dean down from the high. His soft cock slid free of Dean’s ass and Sam whimpered at the loss of heat and tightness, that connection to Dean that made his skin relax. He kissed and suckled at Dean’s neck and ear, lapping at the blood that was sluggishly trailing from the bite. “Gonna take care of you now, keep you safe while we hunt. Love you,” he confessed in a soft, barely there whisper.

 

Dean took a deep breath and he closed his eyes. "Love you, too," he replied, meaning it true and deep from his heart. A feeling he never thought to bother with or understand, but it filled him nonetheless because Sam was his, had been born to be his. He arched his neck, giving Sam more access. "Want you with me forever, baby; do anything for you. Going to make you so happy," he promised softly.

 

Sam turned Dean around, pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. He looked so content, more relaxed than he’d ever been before, and then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dean’s mouth, tender and soft and unlike any other kiss he’d ever given Dean. “Already happy,” he murmured as he pulled back. “I’ve got you.”

 

Dean wrapped his arms almost protectively around Sam and kissed him back, tasting Sam, soft and gentle. It was odd and he didn't understand it but he liked it because this was Sam. "Still, I want to give you everything and I will, I promise you," he said softly. Sam would never want for anything. Dean would make sure of it.

 

A happy grin washed over Sam’s face, dimpling his cheeks. “Okay, okay; let’s get out of here. Wanna take you back to my house, load up my guns and knives, pack some clothes, and get on the road. Skin’s itching with the need to go,” he confessed as he drew back. “Wanna cause some damage, watch you light up and then fuck you silly.”

 

Dean reached down to fix his pants, no thoughts to how insane this was or the fact that Sam had a family of hunters who would be looking for him. None of that mattered because Dean would gladly kill them all to keep what was his, and Dean had more of a claim to Sam than anyone else in his life. "Alright, we'll take my car: pickups aren't too good for that much travel." He smirked. "Come on," he said, in a sudden rush to hit the road hard and never look back.

 

“My truck has hidden compartments, but I’ve seen your car and I’m not going to argue about taking it. I’ll leave my truck for ma and Jo to use if they need to. Tell ‘em I’m off on a hunt, because they’ll look for me otherwise.” Sam slid an arm around Dean and headed back to the truck, completely forgetting that he’d come to the roadhouse to work for the night.

 

Luckily, Sam didn’t have much of a life outside the bar, because it meant that his paychecks had gone directly into the bank, less whatever he’d needed for ammo and gas. But, two years without hunting, working two miles from home, had assured that Sam had pretty good bank balance. “Gonna keep my place, though. We can come back when we need to lay low, or when we need a break from running.”

 

Dean usually lived out of his car, minus the past week or so that he had been at Sam's most of the night. He smirked and nodded his head. "A place to come home to," he commented. He had never thought those words would leave his mouth but it didn't sound bad, sort of odd but not bad. He lived easily enough, credit cards and cash he lifted from whoever he had killed the night before - it was insane what some people carried around in their pockets. 

 

He went to his car, a 1972 Ford Falcon, same make and model his mom had. Hers had been red though. Dean seriously was not going to drive a red car, so his was black. She had known cars, guns and knives. He remembered some of what she used to teach him and the rest he just picked up on his own, wasn't that hard really.

 

“Follow me to my place? I want to clear out the guns and stuff from the truck before we go, and it’d be easier to leave it there than make Ma worry that someone just up and dragged me off in the middle of the night if it’s there. Nothing can get into my house; it’s warded out the ass.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arm, spun him into his chest, and kissed him hard and fast before letting go.

 

Sam was affectionate, or what could be thought of as affectionate between the two. As they parted again he licked his lips, fresh blood still making them warm and sticky. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, though he wondered how well Ellen would actually take this. She seemed like a somewhat normal mother, so he was half expecting her to freak out and come after Sam. But, he was an adult, so who knew? He wiped at his lips and turned to head into his car.

 

Sam jogged over to his truck and hopped in, revving the engine briefly before peeling out of the parking lot, gravel spraying behind him as he tore off down the road. Enthusiasm made him reckless, a trait he’d have to curb if he wanted to help Dean, if he wanted to make sure they were protected, safe, and well under the Feds’ radar.

 

That was what it boiled down to now: Sam needed to help Dean, protect him, and keep him forever. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to stand it if something happened to Dean–it would probably kill him, rip away the last hints of sanity that he had and send him careening down to hell faster than he could spit.

 

Dean took off after Sam, suddenly feeling alone though Sam was less than five yards from him. He could even see the back of Sam's head through the back window of his truck. It didn't matter though; Sam needed to be within reaching distance at any and all times. They hadn't even spent that much time apart if the past four days and whatever time they were, Dean spent counting the seconds until he saw him again. Sam had quickly become as important as, or even more important than, eating, sleeping or breathing to Dean. Sam was everything and more, so Dean had been fighting the idea of leaving for the past two days, knowing in his heart that he never would have gotten far. 

 

Now, he didn't have to. 

 

He sped up a bit to make sure he was right on Sam's heels, not that there was much fear of losing each other or anything but it didn't matter. The sooner they could get there, the better, and the sooner they could be together again.

 

Sam’s truck fishtailed as he slung the truck onto the driveway, sending a shower of gravel and loose dirt off into the ditch. He made sure not to gun the engine, though; spraying Dean’s car with gravel was probably a horrible idea, but when Sam pulled up in front of his house, he slammed on the breaks, jerked it into neutral, and yanked the keys from the ignition. He jogged out to the side, skidding to a halt beside Dean’s car as it pulled up in front of him.

 

Dean got out of the car, his eyes finding Sam at once. The trip itself had been but mere minutes with how they had been driving, but that wasn't even entering his head. He reached for Sam, seeking out contact all over again like he hadn't seen the other man in some time. It was more than a desire or even an addiction; it was stronger and more important. His lips crashed with Sam's, teeth clicking as he tried to almost devour him. "Let’s get this show on the road," he growled as they parted.

 

“Fuck, can’t be apart like that again,” Sam murmured, catching Dean’s lips in another hard, fast kiss, before pulling away. “Come on, lemme grab a bag to pack my guns into. You wanna take a look downstairs and see what weapons you want to take with us?”

 

Dean breathed deeply and kissed Sam with such force that he swore Sam's lip was bleeding again. That, or it was his own. It was very likely if they were apart for any length of time they would not only kill everything around them, but one another with the amount of brutal attention they would be dishing out when they got back together. "Okay, yeah, just tell me where to go," he answered. Needed to get this over with because he didn't want to be away from Sam, not even for the few minutes it would take to pack.

 

“Come on, baby,” Sam said and took Dean’s hand, leading him into the house. In the kitchen, by the boarded up back door, there was a hatch which had a ladder leading down. “Figured it would be better to have the door down hidden in the floor, so I hope you don’t mind ladders.” Sam turned and started down, eyes hot and focused on Dean until he vanished into the darkness below.

 

Ladders Dean didn't mind, Sam being out of reaching distance, though, was a problem. In the last four days he hadn't been more than a few yards from Sam for any long period of time. Which in itself was insane because Dean never needed anyone in his life, never got close enough to miss someone–but Sam was like air to Dean. He was vital for him to actually live. He simply nodded and headed down, finding the different weapons and bullets stored away neatly. He looked around and gathered guns, knives and bullets with ease, loading them into a duffle bag he had found off to the side. He didn't take any of the really big stuff, didn't really need it. It would be better to keep it fairly simple and take only what they needed for now. Besides, Sam was keeping the place; they would be back for the rest when they needed it.

 

“Can’t kill anyone in this county,” Sam said as he wandered among the neat shelves and rows of ammunition and weapons, fingering a blade, a box of salt rounds, and a crossbow. “Don’t want to lead anyone home if we can help it. Gotta keep you safe.”

 

Dean looked back to Sam and nodded. "We'll start as far away as we can. Besides that idiot behind the roadhouse, I haven't hit anyone within a few hundred miles of here. Should go to a big city: in my experience, they never notice strangers coming and going, not like small towns do." It was odd to Dean, the thought of someone to keep him safe, someone besides himself?

 

“Yeah, we’ll hit some cities, some upscale clubs, find someone that makes you tingle and burn,” Sam said conversationally, sheathing a knife against his calf and a gun in the back of his pants. He slung the crossbow over his shoulder. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

 

Dean pulled the bag up on his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah. Shit, man, I haven't seen a collection like this in a long time. You come from hunters, I'm guessing?" he asked with a smirk as he headed back up the ladder. He had a good collection of his own but some of this shit would make for a lot of fun. No need to worry about salt and holy water–vampires and werewolves weren't going to be what he was hunting.

 

“Been hunting since I was ten; Ma and Bill were hunters until Bill died. Now it’s just me and Jo that hunt, and it pisses Ma off.” Sam grinned and followed Dean up the ladder. “Been collecting weapons for awhile now, got some really archaic stuff, too, but it’s in a lock up. Too much chance of someone pawning some of it and getting rich without realizing what they’ve got.”

 

Dean nodded and reached the top of the ladder, crawled out. "Makes sense," he replied. A lot of people had no idea what they had and people were often stupid. Dean knew that firsthand, but, Christ, the right weapon in the wrong hands and you were pretty much fucked. The little bit that he dealt with the hunting community reminded him of that much.

 

Sam crawled out behind him and kicked the hatch shut again, slid the rug over it, and straightened. “Come on, I need to pack some clothes. I’d agree to go naked, but I don’t want you killing everyone we see simply because they got a look at me naked.”

 

Dean laughed, but Sam was pretty much dead on. A lot more people were going to die with Sam around, Dean knew that already. Someone gave Sam the wrong look or used the wrong tone with him and that was it, Dean would take them out so fast they would know what hit them, at least not until he started peeling the skin off their bones. They would rightfully deserve it, too. "Come on now, Sam; we can go out hunting and you pick them out and I'll tie them down and do whatever you want me to do." His cock twitched in interest at the image.

 

Sam set the crossbow down on the kitchen counter and smirked over his shoulder at Dean as he headed back into his bedroom. “I’ll pick ‘em out, I’ll even help tie them down, but I’m going to be too busy fucking you to give a damn what you’re doing to them.”

 

Dean followed Sam to the bedroom, setting the bag down on the table as he passed it. "Perfect Saturday night out," he answered. "Though, honestly, I want to set you loose on one of them. I've wanted to see you rip someone apart since I laid eyes you."

 

“Never done it before, only ever watched you do it,” Sam confessed, dragging a ragged duffle out of the closet and tossing it to the bed. He moved to the dresser and started pulling out handfuls of clothes, used to packing just enough to get him through a few hunts without over-packing. “You’re going to have to help me my first time, hold my hand and direct how I cut them.”

 

Dean folded his arms over his chest and watched Sam as he moved about the room. He shook his head. "I'll hold your hand and your dick if you want me to, but you got it in you, Sam. No matter if you never acted on it before, you'll do just fine." Everyone had their own way of doing shit and everyone had their own habits and way of getting where they wanted to be. He was sure Sam would be the same way and he couldn't wait to watch him that first time.

 

A grin bowed Sam’s mouth as he bundled up the clothes and shoved them into his duffle. He looked straight into Dean’s eyes and licked his lips. “I’ve got you in me,” he said, fastening his duffel closed and slinging it up onto his shoulder. “I wasn’t like this before, not before the dreams, before you were in my head twenty-four-seven; I was just a hunter. But, now I’ve got you in me and I don’t want to be that kind of hunter anymore.”

 

Dean shook his head. He still couldn't get over the fact that Sam was… was with him during every kill in the last few years. He’d fallen into murder, nice and slow, just two or three years ago. Before that he hunted evil for a living and protected himself. Now he killed for fun. He never knew what it was, but it was like a switch had been flipped. One day he had been fighting the good fight, and the next he had done a 180 and started killing for fun, because he needed to. "I just showed you the light, my friend."

 

Sam snorted and shook his head. “I’m not your friend, Dean. I’m just yours,” he said, like stating a fact that was as obvious as the sky being blue. “Now, come on; we’ve got prey to hunt.”

 

Dean smiled and licked his lips as he headed back to the kitchen to pick up his bag. He pulled it up and over his shoulder again a wicked grin on his lips. "So where do you want to start?" he asked. "Or do I just point my car in a direction and let fate decide?"

 

“Let fate decide,” Sam replied, hefting the crossbow back onto his shoulder, comfortable and careless. He stood tall and confident in his own skin, watching Dean with a predator’s eyes. “We’ll stop tomorrow morning to eat, find a motel room, and fuck for a few hours, sleep, and then find some playmates.”

 

Dean nodded his head. "Sounds great," he said. "Food, and then your ass for dessert." He smiled, his eyes dark with desire again. He couldn’t get enough of Sam, didn't matter how many times they did it. He just wanted to do it again and again. "Let’s go," he said, grabbing Sam's hand and pulling him towards the door.

 

A goofy grin wreathed Sam’s face as they headed out. He locked the door, tucked the spare key under the mat, and stepped around to the passenger’s side of Dean’s car. “We’ve got to christen your car; we fucked in my truck, so now we need to fuck in or against or on top of your car,” he said as he tossed his things into the backseat and climbed in front, banging his knees on the dashboard.

 

"Might want to put the seat back first," Dean laughed as he put the bag in the backseat and got in. "Taking her out to a field and fucking on the hood would be hot. Want to make you scream under the stars." He grinned as he shoved the key in and started the car up.

 

Sam slid the seat back with a grateful grunt, rubbing the small hurt in his knees. “You say such pretty things to me, baby. Bet it would shock the living fuck out of you if I ever asked for it slow and tender, wouldn’t it?”

 

Dean smiled and looked back at Sam. "I could easily do slow and gentle with you," he said honestly. "When we first were together, I was willing to do anything to make you happy so I was ready for anything," he confessed. He pulled back and turned right away from the roadhouse and onto the road.

 

“I take it that liking it rough makes things more fun for you,” Sam observed, sliding over in his seat to cuddle up against Dean’s side, fingers sneakily teasing high and inside of Dean’s thigh.

 

"Rough is fun," Dean confirmed. "Doesn't matter though; as long as you’re no more than two feet away from me, that's all that matters," he explained, parting his legs slightly to let Sam know that Dean knew he was there and liked it.

 

Sam slouched down in his seat and butted his face up against the underside of Dean’s jaw, humming happily. “Yeah, can’t let you get far away or I start itching, like I need to claw off my own skin or sit in a corner and scream until you come back. It’s weird, though; should it be like this? I never knew I could be afraid to be apart from someone.”

 

Dean took his hand from the wheel and wrapped his arm protectively around Sam's body, bringing him in closer against him. "Yeah, tell me about it. I need to be around you more than I need to breathe air." He wasn't being over dramatic about it either, he was completely serious. "I’ve never felt anything like it before, but I can’t imagine it being any other way for some reason, you know? As intense as it is and as uncomfortable as it can make me, it comes from the pit of my stomach, like it’s suppose to be there."

 

“Yeah,” Sam replied softly, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck harder, a chill working through him at the mere thought of being away from Dean. “Gotta protect you, Dean; can’t let you leave me for any reason. Mine, mine, mine,” he murmured, nibbling on Dean’s throat.

 

Dean growled low in the back of his throat and arched his neck to let Sam have more room and access. "Never going to leave you," he promised. "No matter what it takes, I will always find you." He wouldn't let them be apart. He didn’t care if he had to kill; he would make sure that he and Sam were always together. No exceptions. "Yours," he agreed with a nod, going slightly dizzy because of the affection and the sparks it sent through his body. "G-got to keep you safe, too, can't live without you."

 

“Never gonna get anywhere,” Sam growled, nibbling harder on Dean’s neck. “Want you too much. Gotta back off or we’ll just fuck like bunnies all the time.” Sam pulled back and clenched his eyes closed, trying to make the lust back off for a little while. They’d only been on the road a few minutes and Sam was itching to make Dean pull over and fuck him over the hood of the car.

 

"Don't want to back off. Want to be with you all the time, only time it doesn't hurt." Dean took deep, settling breaths. He had an itch, an ache, inside him that only Sam ever stopped or eased. No matter how many people he killed or fucked in the past it was always there, like ants in his skull driving him crazy, but Sam made it go away. Made him feel… maybe not normal, but less bat-shit insane than usual.

 

A growl worked its way out of Sam’s throat and he fisted his hands in Dean’s shirt. “Fucking pull off the road, Dean. Can’t talk to me like that, feel all hot and needy like that and then expect me to be able to back off. Pull over and fuck me, damn it,” he demanded, and then buried his teeth in Dean’s neck.

 

The last thing Dean wanted Sam to do was ever back off. He felt Sam's teeth pierce his skin and he jerked, a shudder ripping through him. He pulled off to the side of the road; he had no idea where they were and he just didn't care. He shoved his door open and moved to get out, pulling Sam out with him.

 

Sam scrambled out of the car, hands fisted in Dean’s hair and mouths locked together. He backed up against the side of the car, enjoying the burn of hot metal into his skin through the cotton of his tee shirt. He pulled Dean up against him, leaning back to force Dean to push him into the sun-hot metal. “Want you, Dean, need you,” he moaned, shoving his hips forward and grinding his aching cock against Dean’s belly.

 

Dean worked his hands over Sam’s zipper and his button, shoving the pants down until they hit the ground. His mouth locked with Sam’s. He pulled back, urging Sam towards the front of the car and shoved him up and onto the hot hood. Pushing him down, Dean devoured his mouth with much more than simple lust; it was pure and all-consuming need. Like a crack whore needed a hit but so much worse. He pushed Sam upward, working his own pants down to free his cock. Sam’s legs parted eagerly around Dean’s hips, hissing as the hot metal burned into his naked ass and lower back. He propped his feet up on the hood, bucking his hips up into Dean’s, eager and needy and so damn desperate that he couldn’t hold onto a thought beyond fuck and now.

 

With a snarl Dean grabbed his dick, angled it and took Sam hard and desperate. Sure, loving and tender was well and good, but right now it was all about needing it now, now, now! He couldn't stand another moment being anywhere but balls’-deep in Sam's ass. He pushed Sam's ass up, making sure he buried himself as deep as he could, leaving no room but still it was somehow not enough. He pulled back and slammed into Sam hard, a growl ripping from behind grinding teeth. Some of the itch and clanging nerves faded with every thrust, leaving no room for anything other than painful pleasure. Sam dragged his legs up high, wrapped them around Dean’s ribs, and reached down to grab two handfuls of Dean’s ass, encouraging and demanding more and harder, growling and snarling into Dean’s neck, biting down and sucking hard at the shallow wounds.

 

Dean wrapped one arm around Sam, holding him almost painfully close, a death grip, as his other hand snuck down to tug and fist his dick. He dropped his head back, letting Sam have more access to the skin and curves of his neck, encouraging Sam to bite him more and harder. The pain fueled but also eased the unnatural itch that crawled and ripped at him daily, driving him to the point where all he could think of was Sam. All that mattered in this world was Sam and there was nothing else.

 

Sam’s teeth fit into the wound he’d made earlier, almost perfectly lining up, and sank in sharp and deep. Blood burst on his tongue and dribbled hot into his mouth. He whined and whimpered, swallowing down the hot, visceral flavor of Dean’s blood. The fist stripping his cock, the heady flavor of Dean’s blood, the thick cock driving relentlessly into his ass; all of it combined to send Sam careening over the edge. 

 

His teeth ripped from Dean’s neck and he howled, head tossed back on his shoulders. Sam’s body clenched and tightened down, sucking and demanding Dean’s orgasm, as thick ropes of come spurted up between their chests, sticky and hot. Dean fucked him harder and faster, drawing himself closer to filling Sam, marking him with his scent and his blood. He whimpered and growled, twisted and shook as his dick started spurting waves of come, filling Sam so much that it was overflowing, leaking out of his hole and down between his legs. Sam’s muscles worked his dick, milking it for all it had and more. The intense feelings racked through his body, screams of pleasure and pain stuck in the back of his throat as he felt the sticky heat of Sam's come warm his chest. He loved the feeling, the scent and the heat of it all, and it drove him to milk all the pleasure he could while he could, riding it out to the end before slowing.

 

Sam’s bloody mouth latched onto Dean’s, devouring those perfect lips hungrily, smearing rusty red blotches into the skin. The itch was satisfied for awhile, for now, but it had only banked down to a dull roar. It was still there, still gnawing at him, still waiting for the next instance where they’d go nuts and have to fuck again. It was a compulsion of some kind; some inborn need to have and hold and take and fuck, but just fucking didn’t ease it enough to go back to normal. Sam was always just on the edge, waiting for one thing, one word from Dean that would set him off again. 

 

Dean kissed back; always ready and willing. Before Sam, he would recover fast, but now it was like his body knew no fucking limit. He and Sam had fucked before and just the right look or sound and they’d go at it again. One time, Sam had gone to pick his mother up because her car broke down and Dean had acted more like a caged fucking animal than any human being. He had pinned Sam down the moment he got in the door and hadn't let him up again until hours later. This was more than just love; this was something deep inside that they couldn't escape. Sometimes he just had to have Sam, nothing would get in his way when he had his eyes on Sam, and nothing else would do, nothing else had ever done before Sam.

 

“Love you,” Sam gasped into Dean’s mouth, wrapping his legs tighter around Dean’s ribs, holding him close. “God, need you, love you, love you, love you,” he chanted, hands working feverishly over Dean’s back and hips, unable to get enough of just touching him. The fire of lust had died down, but Sam still couldn’t stand to be parted from Dean just yet.

 

"Love you too, baby, so much," Dean replied, holding Sam close and pressing his face into Sam's neck, running his lips over the soft curve of it. Licking and sucking almost gently, affectionately even as his arms curled tightly around Sam, his body pressed into him. "Can't ever be apart, Sam, for any reason or any amount of time, always have to be with you."

 

Sam reached up and grabbed Dean’s face, holding him still, licking the blood from his mouth and cheeks. “Only mine, gonna keep you forever, protect you, mine, mine, mine,” he murmured, and then licked his way back into Dean’s mouth.

 

"Yours; always, always, always," Dean agreed with a nod in between kisses. He needed Sam to know how much he was needed, how much Dean loved him and that there was nothing he wouldn't do for him. Words alone just weren't enough. He tasted his own blood mixed with Sam's taste. He could always taste Sam in his mouth, could feel his come on him even after they showered. Like there really were marks over his body and more than just the bites and marks from rough sex. "Never going to let you out of my sight, ever. Never be away from you." He shook his head.

 

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but the roar of an engine and the blaring of a horn, the yell of ‘fucking faggots!’ cut off whatever it had been. Sam’s eyes narrowed and he followed the car with his eyes, picking out the license plate number with a low growl. “Come on, baby. I found us a hunt.”

 

A smile slid over Dean’s blood smeared lips. He licked them and pushed himself up, pulling free from Sam easily and reaching down for his pants. He headed back to the driver's side of the car with an eager bounce to his walk. His mind moved from Sam to the prey fate had picked out for them.

 

An intent expression cemented itself into Sam’s face as he slid off of the car and pulled his pants on, hazel-green eyes narrowed. He made his way around the car and slid easily into the passenger’s seat, eyes focused on the road ahead of them. A sinister grin tugged at one corner of Sam’s mouth. “Fetch.”

 

Dean took off after the car with insane speed. His car drank gas, but it didn't matter because she had the speed and could easily catch up with the BMW. In his experience, men with cars like that did it because they were trying to make up for something else. The guy and the bitch at his side would look pretty with it wrapped around a tree. Of course, he wanted to make sure they lived through that so he and Sam could have some real fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Catching the BMW had been a piece of cake: the driver hadn’t thought he’d be pursued so when Dean nudged the BMW off of the road, sending it spinning into a field, the guy had been properly shocked. Sam and Dean had descended on the car like a pair of hungry wolves, each circling to a side to drag a passenger out. Sam had the woman tossed over his shoulder while Dean dragged the guy out by the throat.

 

From there it was a simple matter of tying them up and stuffing them into the backseat of the car. Dean had driven them out into the country, looking for an abandoned building of some kind that would serve as a temporary shelter, and had found one not far over the state line. Sam had been smug the entire time, facing the wrong way in his seat so that he could watch the pair with a slight, maniacal smile, eyes intent and curious on his prey.

 

Dean and Sam dragged their toys into the old barn they’d found and tied them to the horse stalls, spread out like sacrifices. And then Sam went and retrieved the knives. When he came back, he had a duffle bag strapped to his shoulder. 

 

“Who says that we don’t need salt?” Sam asked, dropping the duffle to the floor and digging out a box of rock salt, setting it down on the floor while he searched through the bag for the perfect knife.

 

The people were so shocked and stunned by the crash and the men on their trail they hadn’t even known to fight back until it was too late. Not that it would have mattered. Even if they had, the pair would easily have been able to outrun, out-fight and out-pounce the man and the little bitch screaming and whining at his side. They were both fully awake now, just in time for the show to start.

 

Once they were tied up and obviously not going anywhere, Dean smiled. His eyes were wide and somehow inviting even as his body language screamed menace, displaying just how eager and ready he was. He was almost like a puppy presented with a new toy he was waiting patiently to sink his razor sharp teeth into and rip to shreds before dropping it somewhere when he grew tired of it. 

 

Dean turned and his eyes found Sam as the woman began to cry and the man began making threats and promises, spouting off how they would be sorry and how he knew people. "I'll see you hang for this! You have no idea who I am, do you? What I can have done to you, you’ll be sorry. I swear I’ll have your balls for this!" 

 

Dean simply laughed and knelt down by Sam and smirked. "I say we cut her up nice and slow and make him watch; and you're right, nothing like salt in a fresh open wound right?" he answered, his eyes falling on the woman. "You can scream, too; all you want, no one will hear you way out here."

 

In the end, Sam went with the knife he’d strapped to his calf; five inches of razor sharp steel. “Are you going to help me rip her apart, baby? Or are you going to watch, and then help me with our volunteer?”

 

"Nah I want to watch you, Sam," Dean answered. "First time and all that; I'll sit back and enjoy the show." His green eyes traveled up Sam's body, to the knife in his hand as he moved and he licked his lips. The odd uncontrollable need to fuck Sam lingered in the back of his mind, but was overshadowed by the desire to kill the prey tied up and waiting for them.

 

Sam grinned and crouched beside the woman, a smile on his lips. “Hi, honey. Bet you wish that you hadn’t gone along with that jerk over there; if he’d known how to keep his mouth shut and keep his hatred of other people quiet, you two might be off fucking somewhere.” He reached down and brushed his knuckles across her cheek in an oddly tender gesture. “Too bad.”

 

“Please, I… please, I’m so sorry! L-let me go? I won’t tell anyone, please, I won’t tell.” She sobbed and recoiled from Sam’s hand, trying to back away from him despite the thick wooden support beam behind her.

 

“Can’t do that, honey; you’d never keep quiet. It’ll be okay, though; it’ll just hurt a lot.” Sam’s grin went wide and a bit crazed. He fisted his hand in her hair roughly, forcing her head back. He bit her chin and then licked the mark before letting her go. 

 

The first slice was so fast that the girl didn’t even have time to flinch; the blade too sharp to allow her nerves to register it for a moment. When she did register the pain, however, she started screaming. Sam made a face and started tracing the veins in her arm with the knife, opening them up to watch the blood pool and streak her skin.

 

Dean moved forward making sure he could see and smell her blood as Sam spilled it. He smiled, his eyes turning from Sam and back to the girl again. "No! Stop it!" The man tied to the right began screaming, twisting and tugging at his own bindings as if he were going to go anywhere. 

 

"Shut up and wait your turn or I'll cut your tongue out," Dean told the man, his eyes narrowing a moment, knowing full well that the promise wouldn't shut him up. He hoped it wouldn't because the man's big mouth had been what got him into trouble in the first place. 

 

His eyes fell back to Sam, intent and proud as he carved and marked his prey with slow, even, and beautiful cuts. The blood spilled out over her pure white skin and down her body from the slowly-made, obviously painful wounds. Dean licked his lips and laughed softly. "So good, Sam; knew you would be."

 

Sam turned his attention away from the girl sobbing under his blade and lunged at Dean, capturing his mouth in a hard, sloppy kiss. “Love you, baby,” he murmured and then eased back, lust-blown eyes falling on the girl again.

 

It was with almost reverent care that Sam began opening up the bigger veins in her shoulder, moved cleanly to her collarbone before he stopped. “Hand me the salt, please, baby?”

 

Dean laughed and pushed himself up, got the salt and tossed it to Sam., His eyes were on the man again as he came back when he started screaming as much as the woman was, if not more. He rolled his eyes and settled back on Sam, content to watch him as he worked. After a few more moments, though, the man was interrupting his focus. Dean turned with his own switch blade in hand as he reached for the man's mouth. The tongue was gone in seconds, just as Dean had promised. He would live, for now and more importantly, for now he would be quiet!

 

The salt crystals felt smooth and kind of grainy in Sam’s palm as he poured a generous helping into it. Then, he scattered the salt onto the girl’s skin, listening to her cries ramp up from pained to agonized. A grin curved his lips, pleased that he could tell the difference. He barely noticed Dean, too intent on the girl. Still, he was growing bored, would rather play with Dean, so Sam quickly and efficiently opened the main artery in her neck and inner thigh, fingers lingering a moment or two too long on the soft skin under her skirt.

 

Sam was enthralled by how soft she felt, how he could almost feel the pulse of her blood as it rushed and spurted from the deep cut he’d carved into her skin. Curious, Sam pushed her skirt up over her hips and cut away her panties, watching her cunt twitch and tighten as she bucked and writhed, swiftly bleeding out. In that moment, Sam was compelled to shove three fingers into her, just to feel her tighten and writhe, his arousal sharp and heady as she opened up, wet and terrified.

 

Dean's eyes were back on the man as he started to bleed and whine, unable to speak or even make anything but gasping sounds as he choked on his own blood. Dean smiled and then something hit him, a scent he didn't know for a moment. His eyes turned and his head cocked to the side as he watched Sam intently, confused. "What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped.

 

“She’s wet,” Sam said simply, eyes focused on where his fingers were buried in the girl’s body, slowly and carefully thrusting into her tight heat. “She’s horny even though she’s dying.” Sam grinned, arousal flushing his face as he moved closer, knees pushing her legs further apart. “I think she likes this, Dean.” Dean cocked his head to the side, not understanding how Sam had suddenly gotten stupid. His eyes narrowed and he watched Sam carefully, waiting to see what he would do next. He only just prevented himself from reaching for Sam, pulling him out of her and pinning him to the ground himself.

 

The girl gave a shudder and then stopped moving altogether. Sam tipped his head to the side, shrugged, and pulled his fingers free. He got to his feet, wiped the slick of her cunt off on his jeans leg, and then went to crouch over the man, surprised to find him choking to death on his own blood. A happy grin spread over his mouth. He simply cut the man’s pants away and then hacked off his dick, shoved it into the guy’s mouth before getting to his feet again. “Man, I’m ready for a drink. And a shower; that girl got her slick all over my fingers. She was really wet, so either he fucked her not long before or she really got off on getting cut up.”

 

Dean lost interest in the girl and turned to see Sam kneeling between the man’s legs. He thought to make a comment but soon saw his plans. He smirked slightly, biting his bottom lip as the man began to bleed out slowly. He couldn't help but enjoy the sight, between the first blood loss and the second he wouldn't last long at all. "Getting off on it yourself from what I can tell," he shot back.

 

Sam looked over at Dean with a wide grin. “Not so much her as watching her bleed that did it; wanna wash up and then fuck for a couple of hours.”

 

Dean watched Sam for a moment. He could smell that cunt on him and it made Dean sick. Wasn't the blood, that he could handle, it was the fact that Sam had touched her intimately that was driving Dean insane. The needles of pain and ache of agony gripped at him again. He narrowed his eyes and reached for Sam, a hard hit to the left side of his jaw before pouncing him, shoving him back towards one of the other fence-like setups in the barn.

 

Pain erupted in Sam’s jaw an instant before the ground rose up to meet him. He stared up at Dean, eyes wide and lust-blown. “What the fuck?!” he demanded, eyes narrowing as he reached up and wrapped his hands around Dean’s neck, slicked fingers settling right up against Dean’s jaw.

 

Dean knew how to fight: he fought those he killed and before that his mother had trained him as a hunter. Sam could put up a fight, but what mattered was who would win and at least Dean had him by surprise. The scent of the girl was fresh on Sam, driving him as he shoved at the other young man, pure rage in his bright green eyes. He didn't answer, ignoring the protest and working his hands up to force Sam's apart. He loosened Sam’s grip before taking the other boy down, three hard punches right to his face, attempting to stun him enough to keep him still so Dean could restrain him.

 

The punches dazed him just enough; Sam’s eyes rolled back and his grip slackened long enough for Dean to get a better grip on him. By the time Sam managed to get his eyes open and focused, his hands were pinned to the floor over his head and Dean was glaring down at him, murder bright in his eyes. “Dean?” he asked, suddenly realizing that Dean wasn’t joking around, wasn’t trying to work off energy. Dean was pissed.

 

Dean reached down and undid his belt, wrapping it around Sam's wrists and twisting it around one of the posts used to hold up the ceiling. His eyes were cold and dark. He had no idea what he wanted to do to Sam, but he wanted to make sure Sam remembered it. He pressed his lips together and dropped between Sam's legs, shoving them apart. "Past two days all you've been chanting at me is how I belong to you and you need to understand it works both ways. You smell just like that fucking whore, so I'll treat you like one."

 

“What? Dean, no, it wasn’t like that. I just… she was twitching and it looked… I was curious, that’s all! I swear!” Sam’s eyes widened in fear, but his breathing was rapid and hitched with arousal. Always aroused around Dean, always needed him, wanted him; how could he think some dead girl could compare?

 

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, reaching for Sam forgotten knife, soaked and stained in the blood of both the man and the woman. He sighed and shook his head, ignoring Sam's whining as he knelt down beside him and began easily cutting and slicing his mate's shirt and pants off. He licked his lips and his eyes fell on Sam's face again. "Sure, looked just like that to me," he finally said.

 

Sam turned his head and spat out the blood pooling in his mouth from Dean’s punches, but he remained still. He pouted and refused to look at Dean. “So you can fuck them while they’re dying, but I can’t even shove my fingers into some dying whore’s cunt to see how it feels when she goes into death throes? How fucking fair is that?”

 

Dean smirked, but it was possessive and angry. "Who have I fucked, touched, or even looked at since I've had you, Sam?" he demanded, malice and bitterness in his voice as he ripped the clothes out from under Sam, throwing them to the side. He looked down at Sam's naked body; covered in bites and bruises from how many times he and Dean had fucked. He was about to add more, too. He reached down and hit the other man hard across the face. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he demanded. "And answer the fucking question. In fact, answer this one; if I would have shoved my dick in that piece of shit’s mouth, how would you have taken it?"

 

“Fuck you!” Sam snarled, bucking up in an attempt to get free of Dean’s grasp. “I didn’t put my dick anywhere near that bitch! I had no intentions of fucking her! I was just goddamn curious about if she’d be tighter while she was fading away, goddamn it!”

 

Dean smiled, knowing that the image sparked something in Sam's mind. He shook his head. "Guess we'll never know, will we, Sam? I mean, she bled out before you could even get to 3rd base," he mocked as he moved to shove Sam's thighs apart and settled between his legs. "Going to make you remember, Sam, who you belong to." With that he pulled Sam's belt from shredded jeans and brought it up to wrap tightly around Sam's neck, cutting off his air supply. Hazel-green eyes went wide, snapping up to Dean’s face in shock. He tried to close his legs, jamming his knee into Dean’s ribs as he bucked and jerked. Sam glared up at Dean, but there was no denying the arousal that blazed in his eyes, warmed his skin and made his cock jerk.

 

Fighting as hard as he could wouldn't do any good because Sam wasn't getting away. Dean was good at keeping his prey in place as he took what he wanted and right now, that's what Sam was. He tightened the belt's grip around Sam's neck, almost like he was trying to break his neck though he knew when to let up and let Sam breathe and when to pull it tighter. He adjusted some, shoving his own legs apart to split Sam's wider, giving him less room to struggle as he jerked his own dick free.

 

Sam yanked at his hands, trying to free them so that he could shove Dean off, maybe land a few punches or kicks. His mouth did not go dry at the sight of Dean’s cock, and his asshole absolutely did not twitch and clench at the realization that Dean was going to fuck him. He was pissed, damn it! Dean couldn’t trust him, wouldn’t listen to reason, and, and… fuck it! Sam wrapped his legs around Dean’s ribs and clenched them tight, locking his ankles as he struggled to pull in a deep enough breath. 

 

Dean was going to beat Sam into submission if he had to and he knew what Sam thinking as he twisted and tried to throw Dean off. Dean wasn't having it though: Sam was going to take this no matter if he wanted it or not. He hit Sam again and again, landing punches wherever he could, not giving Sam an inch to move or a chance to lighten the blows. Still, though, Sam didn't seem to want to give in to him and it still didn't matter to Dean. He reached down, shoving his dick right into Sam's hole, spreading him wide as the belt tightened around him again. Sam had touched that woman, spread his fingers and fucked her with them and that wasn't going to happen again. The two of them doing it together was one thing, Sam doing it on his own, in front of Dean, was something else.

 

Sam choked and struggled to drag in a breath, trying to breathe through the burn of penetration, the liquid fire that burned through his blood just because Dean was in him, because Dean was possessive enough to take offense when Sam had allowed his curiosity to take over. Sam’s cock dribbled copious amounts of pre-cum, creating a little puddle of if on his belly.

 

Dean thrust into Sam and brought his hand down to grip Sam’s hip to keep him in place. His cock twisted and jumped as he loosened the belt, just enough to allow Sam to breathe with great difficulty. He licked his lips and bit his bottom one, enjoying the fact that Sam was still trying to fight him though he was very well aware of the fact that he wasn't winning. He pushed in and yanked out, ramming Sam brutally, allowing instincts to take over as he reached down, brushing his fingers over Sam's own hard dick.

 

“Dean,” Sam choked out, struggling to keep his body in check, but the pain and pleasure were swiftly knocking aside the anger and hurt, forcing his body to react, to buck up into each hard thrust. His eyes were watering with the lack of steady oxygen, mouth gaping open as he dragged in thin breaths.

 

Dean dropped his head and ran his tongue over Sam's bottom lip and down to his chest, dragging teeth up his shoulder where he bit down hard. The skin broke apart under his teeth as they drove, deep and sharp, through several layers. He didn’t bother to slow or have concern for the other. His jaws locked as he felt blood between his teeth. He sucked away at the new wound as wells of rusty blood poured out, sliding down his throat. He drank it deeply, hungrily, pulling back a moment to breathe and lick at the wound, his teeth soon buried into the abused flesh again as if he was trying to mark his mate down to the bone. 

 

He let go to bring his wrist to his own lips. His teeth, sharp and blood soaked already, pierced his skin. The blood started to flow quickly but the pain didn't reach his brain. Dean had a reason and it was important. Moving skin to skin, he smeared his blood into the wound on Sam's neck, mixing blood with blood so Sam would always carry a part of him. He thrust into Sam, fucking him deep and hard, his movements quick. His lust and desire beat back the rage and hate. Sam reacted against him, and it drove Dean harder, matching thrusts into Sam's ass to the tugs at his dick.

 

Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head and he came with a wheezed breath, painting his belly and Dean’s fist. It was, point blank, the best orgasm Sam had ever had; burning fire rolling up from his ass, the starvation of his lungs, the bite of Dean’s teeth, his fingers, it all coalesced into a bright ball in the center of Sam’s belly, wrapping tightly around the lust and desire. It exploded out of him with such force that Sam’s head spun - or maybe that was lack of oxygen.

 

Dean growled. "Mine, Sam, mine, mine, mine," he hissed and chanted between licking at the blood dripping out of the bites over Sam's skin. As Sam came, Dean filled him with his own spurts of come. He groaned and jerked, cock exploding and twitching. He let go of the belt so it loosened around Sam's neck, allowing him to breathe normally.

 

“Dean, God, Dean, please, need to touch you, baby, please,” Sam begged, voice rough and raw from the belt, breathy from lack of oxygen. Dean dropped a second, but reached up and unhooked the belt from Sam's wrists to free him. The blood was rushing to his head but he was aware of Sam's voice and his request.

 

Sam scrabbled at Dean the moment his hands were loose, clinging to him almost desperately. “Never touch ‘em again, never, never; fuck, Dean, never touch anyone but you ever again,” he swore, dragging Dean down to suck and kiss at his jaw and lips.

 

Dean reacted to Sam's lips, reaching up to kiss back and take Sam's mouth. Sam's words rang in his ear. "Sam," he said desperately. He just wanted to be close to Sam. The anger was gone, he had no idea where it went, but all of a sudden it didn't matter. Given the same issue again, though, the outcome would be the same. That was anger, the hurt had just been buried, but right now it was just him and Sam.

 

“So sorry, baby, so sorry. Never touch anyone ever again, I swear. God, Dean, don’t leave me,” Sam begged, clinging tightly, suddenly petrified that Dean might leave. He wrapped arms and legs around Dean, face buried in Dean’s neck. “Won’t touch anyone, won’t do it, won’t look at anyone but you,” he babbled.

 

Dean sighed and clung tightly to Sam, confused for a moment at what Sam was saying. Dean couldn't even imagine leaving Sam in the bedroom to get a beer from the kitchen, let alone leaving him altogether. He shook his head. "Can't go anywhere, Sam, can't ever be without you," he murmured, wrapping his arms protectively around Sam as if the closeness would drive away the fear and the hurt.

 

It took several minutes for Sam to calm down, for his breathing to return to normal, his sanity to bleed back in, and slowly he relaxed and pushed Dean back to look him in the eye. “I really didn’t mean anything by touching her like that, Dean, I swear to God. I was just curious about what it felt like. I’ll never do it again.” He leaned up and sealed his promise with a chaste kiss, eyes guilty and regretful.

 

Dean had never known jealously and he hated the feeling with a passion. More than that, though, was the fear that Sam would find someone else appealing even if she was in the middle of dying. He couldn't allow someone else to take that kind of attention from Sam and he finally nodded. "I know you didn't," he said softly, knowing that now, yeah, but at the time it was like his mind had snapped. He nodded against Sam's skin and kissed him tenderly, love expressed clearly in the kiss with a soft taste and feel. "It's okay," he assured. "Love you so much, Sam," he said softly.

 

“Love you, too, Dean,” Sam confessed, soft and reverent. He tried to smile but it broke off into a wince, lip split and cheek swollen, eye starting to bruise up from the punches Dean had delivered. Instead, Sam's lips quirked the opposite side of his mouth in a grateful smile. “Need to clean up, baby,” he said quietly. “Need to get clothes on and get going, yeah?”

 

Dean reached up to cup Sam's cheek a moment; he'd be a colorful mess by the next morning. Dean had lost it for a few moments there. He nodded and pushed himself up. "Yeah, let's get out of here and find a motel and some food," he agreed. He got up and reached down to help Sam up, the bodies in the room not even catching his attention as he moved back to the bags left in the center of the room. Sam gathered up the remains of his clothes, the belts, and bundled them up against his chest. Then he limped over to the doorway, leaving Dean to get the bags. Come and a hint of blood slid down Sam’s leg, catching in the bend behind his knee as he limped out into the dying sunshine. Dean pulled the bags up, slinging one over his shoulder as he followed Sam out the door and to the car. He dumped the bags into the trunk of the car and closed the back before returning to the driver's side. He relaxed a second to give Sam time to dress before they left.

 

Sam was quiet as he pulled clean clothes from his bag in the backseat. He wiped up the come and blood from his skin with the remnants of his clothes and then pulled the clean things on. When he slid into the passenger’s seat, it was with a slight wince which he covered with a lopsided smile. “What are you hungry for, baby?”

 

Dean watched Sam carefully, concerned that he had actually hurt Sam though he knew Sam wouldn't admit it even if he had. He knew that this had been different than the other times they had fucked, no matter how rough they had gotten. Normally they just fucked like rabbits, didn't punch the shit out of one another. Once Sam was settled, Dean shrugged. "Right now I could go for anything, so we'll just drive until we find something, unless there's something you want?" he asked as he pulled back onto the road.

 

“Nah, I’m not really that hungry, to tell the truth. I could really use a shower and some sleep, though. Didn’t realize that the adrenalin rush would drop me so fast, leave me so tired. It wasn’t like when I was hunting; I’d be wired for hours after a hunt.” Sam shrugged and slouched down in the seat, head resting on the back of the seat. He slid a hand across the seat and brushed his fingertips against Dean’s thigh, just needing to touch him a little bit, just to assure himself that he was there.

 

"Okay we'll get drive through, then," Dean answered. He was hungry but he was also getting pretty tired, too. A shower and a bed sounded perfect right then. He didn't really want to be around anyone else as it was. He just wanted to be with Sam, no one else. He took Sam's hand and pulled him over to rest his head in his lap. "Come on, you sleep and I'll wake you when we get there." 

 

“Thank you, baby,” Sam murmured and rolled over, putting his back to the front of the car. He wrapped one arm around Dean’s leg, the other around Dean’s waist, snuggling in so his face was pressed against Dean’s belly. “I really am sorry, though,” he whispered, muffled against the material of Dean’s shirt.

 

"Don't worry about it, Sam; it's done with, okay?" Dean said as his hand came down to rest on the top of Sam's head. His fingers ran through Sam’s hair and he smiled to himself, just very thankful that Sam was there. There even if he did piss him off or drive him crazy. Having Sam snuggle so close to him made Dean feel right at home in some strange way. He settled back to drive and let Sam sleep.

 

Sam sighed and got comfortable, mind running back over his mistake in the barn, worrying over it and wondering if Dean was really over it. He couldn’t really sleep, wound up from the sex and the kill.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean sighed as he pushed the door to their motel room open. They had gotten into the city late last night, and after a restless night he needed coffee. He stretched a bit and sat down on the bed, rubbing his eyes. He had slept well enough for a motel room bed, but honestly he was uneasy and didn't know why. Normally he would be down for sleeping in a little after driving for a few hours, but that odd itch was running under his skin. This was a little different, though, not as strong as when he and Sam needed to…. Well, the point was, it was just different.

 

“Need a shower,” Sam growled and slammed the door shut behind him. Sam made a beeline directly to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. They’d only been awake for a few hours, but with the way his skin was buzzing he really needed another shower. The bathroom door slammed behind him, the thin wood cracking around the hinges.

 

Sam crawled into the shower, water icy cold as it pelted his skin—of course they’d find a crappy motel with actual water pressure and they wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. Dean was worked up as well; it was obvious in how he walked, the way he worded things, snapping at their waitress. Sam had only barely kept from suggesting that they start at one end of the motel and leave a massive amount of carnage behind—killing that many people would draw too much attention from the police, after all.

 

Dean jerked a little at the sound of the door slamming. Normally he would go with Sam and shower with him or, fuck, find any reason to go into the bathroom with him but right now, Sam wasn't going to cure the itch or calm the bugs crawling under his skin. He would have been down with the idea to rip apart everything that they came in contact with, but he knew as well as Sam did that it wasn't a good idea. They had been doing pretty well, spilling in and out of places and ensuring the bodies wouldn’t be found until they were long gone. The cops never even seemed to link the deaths; too far apart Dean guessed. He flopped back on the bed and shifted a bit, his leg bouncing, trying to work the added energy out.

 

By the time Sam came back out of the bathroom, an hour had passed. He didn’t bother with clothes, just wrapped a towel around his waist and went back to the front door of the motel room, grabbed the newspaper he’d seen earlier, and took it with him to the table. The shower hadn’t done anything for his crawling, buzzing skin. 

 

By rote, Sam searched through the newspaper for odd happenings, local anniversaries, and the random sports score—looking for anything to take his mind off of the irritation roaming through his body. What he found made him stop short. “Hey, Dean? I think I found a hunt.”

 

Dean pushed himself up and looked over at Sam with a frown on his lips. "In the newspaper?" he asked. Normally they never went after people who were poplar enough to make the front paper or some shit. They hadn't hunted anything… non-human together and Dean hadn't even bothered with it in years. 

 

“Not that kind of hunt, babe,” Sam replied and folded the newspaper over, a frown wrinkling his brow. “This kind of hunt would mean research and a lot more focus than our kind. I think there’s something supernatural going on here. Something is killing people, ripping them to pieces. Could be anything from a Black Dog to a werewolf. I’m going to go insane if I don’t do something right now.”

 

Dean looked at Sam in disbelief. "You're worried about people dying?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Seriously, with what they did to keep their nights filled? He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sam, I don't do hunts like that it's…." It had been far too long and that wasn't him, never had been, though he understood where Sam was coming from—needing to get his mind off of whatever was eating away at both of them.

 

“I don’t care about people dying, Dean,” Sam said, sounding put-upon, and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I care about occupying myself so I won’t vibrate right out of my skin. Something is wrong. I don’t ever feel this keyed up, and all that sounds good to me is killing every person in the state or hunting whatever is taking our prey.” He looked over at Dean, pleading in his eyes. “I need to hunt something challenging or I’m going to go insane.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to disagree because a hunt wasn't going to fix this problem. In fact, he didn't know what would because what the hell could they do if they didn't know what was causing it in the first place? Sam wanted this though; he could see it deep in his eyes. He finally nodded his head. Wasn't like he could deny Sam something, even if he knew for a fact it was going to drive him up a fucking wall. "Fuck, I hate hunting, but fine," he mumbled.

 

That little admission, however reluctant, brought a wide smile to Sam’s mouth, one that had been absent since they’d rolled into the county late last night. Sam got up from his seat at the table and strode over to Dean, grinning down at him, predatory and hot. He climbed into Dean’s lap, straddling Dean’s thighs. “You are so Goddamn good to me, baby. Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?”

 

Dean noted the smile and a matching one found its way onto his lips. He licked them a moment and he looked up to Sam as he settled on his lap. He chuckled softly and ran his hands down Sam's naked chest and wrapped them tightly around his waist. "Maybe I should see how hard this is for me and then make you pay for it once it's over," he whispered back as his mouth came up to bite down hard on Sam's neck. He changed his mind at the last moment and sucked and kissed him gently instead.

 

Sam sighed softly at the attention to his neck, his grin sliding away as he tipped his head to the side to give Dean’ more room to tease him. “Sounds like a plan,” he murmured, his hands roaming over Dean’s back. “Maybe you’ll even have fun, which would mean I could ask for a prize for suggesting it.”

 

Dean kissed his way down Sam's neck and shifted to the other side, sucking a deep mark into the arch of his neck. He laughed softly and rolled his eyes though they were still closed. "Don't push it," he answered as he ran a hand down Sam's spine and pulled him in closer to him.

 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t like trying out slow and easy with me, not even once?” Sam asked, shifting slightly in Dean’s grip. He closed his eyes, hands tightening on Dean’s back, and tried willing away the irritation that was buzzing under his skin—the irritation that pushed at him to snap at Dean, to bite and claw and hurt because he’d been denied. Reacting like that would only lead to more aggressive behavior from Dean, which just might end with Dean holding his favorite blade to Sam’s throat.

 

He felt Sam tense and he shook his head. "No, I meant don't push it in the idea that I'll have fun," Dean corrected between kisses. They had talked before about slow and gentle but it never seemed to work out that way. By the time they got each other’s clothes off, it ended with someone pinned to the wall, the bed or over the car and there was no stopping it then. He purred into Sam's skin and nuzzled against him. "Always have to have you," he added.

 

Sam relaxed by degrees, mollified by the comment. “If hunting humans is thrilling, then hunting things that fight back is going to turn your crank so hard that I’m almost positive that we’ll end up fucking as soon as it, whatever it is, is dead. Probably right over its carcass,” he moaned, rolling his hips against Dean’s.

 

Dean nodded, knowing that Sam was right. Fighting and hunting always got them going. It was like they had something extra they needed to work off or just go insane. Only consuming each other seemed to dampen that fire in their stomachs. "Sounds like fun," he growled back, turned on and eager by the thought. He reached around and gripped Sam's ass, running his finger down his crack and between his cheeks, feeling heat. His dick twitched. "Of course, I might get so hot might have do it before they're even dead. I can't control myself with you."

 

“You think I’m much better at controlling myself with you?” Sam asked, gripping Dean’s tee shirt and dragging it up with greedy hands. He tipped his head down and caught Dean’s mouth, lips surprisingly soft and tender as they moved over Dean’s. It felt different that time, like he had a bit more control over himself than usual. The burning itch was still there, enhanced by the new sense of irritation, but not so bad that he couldn’t control himself. It was rather exciting.

 

Both of them had lost control time and time again since the first time they had been together. There were times where Dean was ready to rip through his own skin just to touch Sam. He needed the other man like he was literally half his heart and soul. It was agony to be away from him and he only knew that from maybe one or two experiences because other than those, they were never apart. He lifted his arms up to allow Sam to remove his shirt, parting from Sam's soft lips only for a second because he had to. He gripped Sam's hips and rolled them over, laid him down on his back on the bed so he could climb on top of him.

 

Unhurried hands slid down to Dean’s waist, tugged his button and fly open, and then slid inside. Sam’s fist curled loosely around Dean’s cock, more holding him than stroking. It was kind of astounding that they were able to suddenly take their time, go slowly enough that they could savor each moment rather than everything devolving into frantic and hurried fucking. Just once, just this once, it looked like they’d actually be able to have something resembling tenderness.

 

Dean kicked his pants off and ground his hips down into Sam's hand, a soft moan escaping his lips as his mouth came down to kiss Sam again, more firmly, harder. He urged Sam's mouth open with his tongue, biting gently on his lip rather than how he normally demanded entrance. His hands came down and parted Sam's legs, settled down between them. The itch and desire to have Sam was there but it wasn't painful, he was enjoying Sam’s body rather than trying to feed the endless and agonizing hunger that normally burned through moments and left them gasping and needy.

 

A groan opened Sam’s mouth. His free hand came up and cupped Dean’s cheek, thumb grazing where their mouths were locked together, tongue slipping inside to tangle with Dean’s. He drew his legs up, wrapped them around his love’s hips, and urged him forward. 

 

They didn’t usually have time for lube or prep, so neither of them had any on hand. This one time Sam wished they had something, just so that they could do it slow and drag it out without dealing with too much pain to distract them from the pleasure.

 

Dean's thoughts were close to Sam's. He wanted to make Sam feel good, make him twist and whine in pleasure, not hurt him or make him bleed. Dean sighed and he pulled away from the kiss, sticking his finger in his mouth and then tracing it down Sam's crack until he found his hole. He pushed into him gently, his lips finding Sam's again. He pulled his finger out and worked in and out of Sam easily. Though it was dry it was more than they had ever done in the past when it came to prep.

 

Sam mewled into Dean’s mouth, arms coming up to wrap around Dean’s shoulders. “Dean,” he whispered, eyes dilating to wide puddles of black with the thinnest of hazel-green rims. In that moment, Sam could almost feel exactly how much Dean loved him, and it blew his mind.

 

Dean breathed deeply and shuddered at the love and softness of Sam's voice, he had never heard Sam sound like that but he really liked it. "Want me to use my fingers or my tongue to open you up, baby?" he asked softly. Sam sometimes went crazy when he didn't get attention to his prostate right away. They were both enjoying this, Dean could tell, but Dean wanted Sam to enjoy it even more.

 

“God, Dean, anything,” Sam replied, mouthing at Dean’s neck. It didn’t even occur to him to bite down, to open the healing wounds in Dean’s neck, to snarl and growl and claw—this was so much different, deeper than the physical. It made Sam’s head swim. “Love you so much,” he confessed, feeling near to bursting with it.

 

"Love you too, Sam," Dean murmured, pulling back a bit and licking his lips. "Turn over," he requested, his voice and tone soft. It really was just a request, not cold and demanding. Nothing about either of their actions was, and it was so out there, so beyond Dean but in the best kind of way. "Make you feel so good, Sam."

 

Sam rolled onto his belly and crawled up further onto the bed, wrapping his arms around a pillow and tucking it under his chest. “You always make me feel good, Dean. Always,” Sam murmured, watching Dean over his shoulder. Dean dropped his head and kissed down Sam's spine until he reached the base, licking and sucking against the skin. He reached down and pulled Sam's cheeks apart, laughing softly before letting his tongue trail down in between. He played with Sam's entrance, probing the nerves here and there. Testing and teasing gently.

 

“God, who knew you were such a tease?” Sam groaned and spread his legs further apart. He canted his hips back, eager for more of Dean’s mouth and tongue, and pressed his face into the pillow to stifle the sharp hitches in his breath. Dean would never let him live it down if he melted after just a little bit of tender affection. Dean ate up Sam’s reactions. He kissed his way down, pulled back a moment, and ran his hand down Sam's back affectionately and loving. After a few more seconds of teasing, he pushed his tongue past the walls around his entrance and fucked into him easily and gently. The muscles gave little resistance and he shuddered against the taste and the heat.

 

Sam’s head snapped back and he cried out, hoarse and surprised. Hips pressed hard into the bed, Sam pushed up on his hands, spine bowing sharply backward, the messy length of his hair hanging mere inches from his upper back. “God, Dean, fuck,” he babbled, struggling to get his knees under him so that he could push onto the tongue thrust into his ass.

 

He pushed back to give Sam room to move and pressed in harder, drawing circles with his tongue. Dean opened Sam up as he fucked in and out, feeling the muscles give away. He licked, kissed and sucked, enjoying it and wanting more of it. He reached up and grabbed Sam's hips, bringing him back into him. “Dean, Dean, Dean,” Sam chanted, forcing his knees to hold him, and rocked back onto Dean’s tongue. He mewled and gasped, clenching rhythmically around Dean’s tongue. “Please, Dean. Goddamn it, please, please, please,” he begged, voice a high, strained cry.

 

Dean pulled back just a bit and pushed one finger inside of Sam's hole to open him up further. He and Sam fucked so much the two of them were hardly ever tight but Dean wanted to make sure. He pushed Sam's legs further apart so he could locate and tease his prostate. “Dean!” Sam shouted, knuckles going white where he gripped the pillow. He rocked back and forth on Dean’s tongue and finger unconsciously, mind burnt up and only running on impulse and need at that point. “More, fuck, Dean, more, more,” he sobbed, brows twisted in pleasure.

 

Dean added a second finger and spread them apart to loosen Sam further, still driving deeply and poking gently at the soft gland buried deep inside Sam. He moaned against Sam’s skin and sucked on his flesh, kissing him and covering him with light pink marks.

 

“God, please!” Sam begged, reaching back with one hand to fist in Dean’s hair, tugging at him. “Fuck me,” he demanded, voice a broken mess of love and desire. “Dean, please, please! Need you.”

 

Dean pushed himself up, unable to deny that request. He licked his lips sat up on his knees behind Sam, adjusting himself to nudge against Sam's hole. He gripped his hips and inched into him slowly, carefully, a moan escaping him, needy and hungry as he pushed in deeper, stuffing Sam full in just a few short thrusts.

 

Sam moaned low in his throat and moved his hand back to grip Dean’s hip. Lust rode rough-shod over him, flaring and sizzling in his blood, along every nerve ending, lighting him up from the inside out. He pressed back with his free hand, meeting each of Dean’s thrusts. It felt so different from how things usually played out between them; there was no clawing demand to fuck and bite and claim as fast and viciously as possible, there was only lust and need and love and it made Sam’s eyes prickle. It was normal, natural, in a way that their normal sex life usually wasn’t; which made it even more intense and special.

 

Dean melted into Sam easily, his body enjoying every moment of Sam's skin and warmth. Normally he couldn't take the time or the energy to notice just how Sam twitched and jerked around him. How Sam moaned when Dean did something he liked and how he screamed when Dean did something else that he really liked. He licked his lips and drove into Sam with easy, soft thrusts. He fell forward and he kissed the back of Sam's neck and up to his ear. "Love you so much, Sam, so beautiful and perfect," he whispered.

 

“Dean, Dean,” Sam gasped, dragging his hand away from Dean’s hip and draping his arm over Dean’s neck instead, holding him close. “Fuck, love you,” he murmured, turning his head to drag parted lips over the crest of Dean’s cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, all the while gasping and busily meeting each devastatingly accurate thrust.

 

Dean kept with pace, pulling in and out of Sam his body, shuddering against the feel of Sam's heat and muscles. He whimpered softly: it felt amazing, he could feel everything. His lips moved over Sam wherever he could touch him, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend's chest to drag him up on his knees, his back against Dean's chest as he sought out his mouth.

 

Sam groaned and attacked Dean’s mouth like a starving man, one hand on the wall above the bed to help him balance while the other one tickled through Dean’s hair. He thrust his tongue inside, eating at Dean’s mouth, taking just as fiercely as Dean was taking his body.

 

Dean opened his mouth to invite Sam in as he kissed him back. His arms wrapped protectively around Sam's body and held him tight. His thrusts were growing harder and faster, though still not violent. He reached down, his hand gripping Sam's dick, pre-come spilling out over his fingers as he matched tugs to his thrusts.

 

“Dean!” Sam keened, ripping his mouth away from Dean’s. His body tightened and strained, and then convulsed as orgasm stole over him unprepared. He tightened down around Dean’s cock, hot jets of come spurting over clever fingers and the wall and pillow, dribbling onto the bedcovers as Sam wailed Dean’s name repeatedly. Dean jerked Sam through his orgasm, watching and listening to Sam as he rode out the pleasure. Dean exploded shortly after, Sam’s orgasm milking his own from him. With another thrust he was spilling out hot and sticky, his seed filling Sam as he held onto him, clung to him, and panted his name again and again into Sam's ear, panting.

 

Sam collapsed against the wall, the strength of his arms failing him, leaving his cheek and shoulder smashed against the cold, sticky wall. Sam shivered and shuddered, breath catching and leaving again in a whoosh. Clumsily, Sam kept Dean pressed to his back with the arm clasped tight around Dean’s neck. At the moment, he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Dean, had to feel him hot and panting against his neck, slick and softening inside of him, had to feel the slowly cooling slide of sweat as it dripped from the tips of Dean’s hair.

 

Dean could feel come dripping from Sam as he softened inside him. He buried his face in Sam's neck, unwilling to be away from him, either. He didn't try to move, he didn't even think he would have been able to anyway. He licked his lips and took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. The high was so intense, so much more than any other time they had been together—maybe not more, but certainly different.

 

“I love you,” Sam whispered and then let his hand slide carefully away from Dean’s neck, testing his willingness to part, even so minutely, from Dean. He sighed and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Dean inside him without the sting of abused muscles, the ache of torn skin, and the burn of sweat seeping into raw scratches. “That was amazing,” he whispered, again keeping his voice to the quietest of levels, unwilling to break the spell that had fallen over them. Hard and furious was fun and amazing, but tender and sweet actually felt more like love, and Sam couldn’t give a damn about how sappy that sounded.

 

"Love you, too," Dean returned softly, letting go to run a hand through Sam's hair from behind. After a moment he reached for Sam's chin and turned his face to meet Dean's. He kissed him deeply and licked against his lips, holding him close as his body started to relax and his grip loosen just a bit, unwilling.

 

Sam tried to twist to meet the kiss, tried to shift, but he ended up breaking more contact between them and a broken noise filled his mouth, flowing over Dean’s tongue heavy and thick. The shift caused Dean to slip free of Sam’s body, dragging another mournful sound from Sam’s lips.

 

Dean whimpered when they parted and he took a sharp intake of breath. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking a bit. He hadn't meant for them to lose contact, he just wanted Sam's mouth again. He opened his mouth and drew Sam's tongue in, kissing and sucking.

 

Sam pushed hard against the wall and toppled them both to the bed, crawling on top of Dean quickly, as though afraid to be apart from him for more than the handful of seconds it had cost them to change positions. Sam straddled Dean’s hips, slid his arms beneath Dean’s neck, and pressed himself against Dean in every way he could. “My everything,” he murmured and then sealed their mouths together again, sighing in satisfaction as contact was restored.

 

Dean took a deep breath and kissed Sam back, his arms snaking up around Sam and pulling him into his body tightly. He nodded his head and cuddled him, instincts telling him he needed to be close to Sam, never more than an arm’s length away from him. "Don't know how I ever survived without you," he confessed softly, "Part of my soul, everything, Sam, everything.”

 

“Won’t ever have to be without me again,” Sam cooed, nuzzling along Dean’s cheek, his jaw, and then placed soft, reverent kisses along the jut of his jaw. “Perfection, made for me, only for me. Mine, Dean, just like I’m yours.”

 

Dean adjusted more and pressed against Sam with a smile on his lips. He moved his head up a little to get closer to Sam's mouth. Sam was right; there wasn't another person in this world that Dean could ever be with. Sam was his only, born for each other. "Never anyone else," he promised, "Can't ever be with anyone else."

 

A low, pleased growl met Dean’s words and Sam nipped sharply on the point of Dean’s chin, only to soothe the sting with sucking kisses. “You belong to me, Dean, just as much as I belong to you. Neither of us can mate with anyone else.” Sam sat back a bit, just enough to put a little distance between their faces, and frowned. He’d never used the word ‘mate’ in that kind of context before, but it sounded right, tasted right on his tongue. Still, mate?

 

Dean didn't take notice to the word usage at first. He had thought that term a few times before, like the night in the barn. He never said it out loud, though. He cocked his head to the side, a little confused when Sam pulled back. "Are you okay?" he asked.

 

A smile tugged at Sam’s lips and he nodded. “Mate,” he whispered, tasting it on his tongue again—still felt right. “You’re my mate.” His voice was stronger then, surer, and the smile blossomed wide over his face. “Mine.”

 

Pushing himself up a little Dean smiled at the title and he nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. Boyfriend, lover and so on were okay but they weren't forever. Mate was for a lifetime. Besides, a mate was one that was born to be yours and only yours. "Always been yours," he added, pulling Sam down again to lay with him.

 

Sam made soft, happy noises in the back of his throat as he curled up with Dean. He tucked his face in Dean’s neck, content to lie atop Dean’s body like the other man was his personal bed—and why not? Dean was his, and Sam couldn’t bear to move away for however long it would take to shift position. “There’s still a hunt here, Dean. We’ll have to go hunting in a little while, check the library to map out killing grounds.” He yawned, satisfied and relaxed for the first time in what felt like ages, and cuddled in tighter, nose settling in the hollow behind Dean’s ear.

 

Dean blinked and sighed a bit before nodding. “Can we take a nap first, though?” he asked, pulling the forgotten blanket up from the side of the bed to cover himself and Sam. Hunting wasn't at all something he found enjoyable, not black dogs and wolves, anyway, but even more so since he was so comfortable with Sam right now. He couldn't leave this comfort at the moment.

 

“Nap time,” Sam replied, happiness and sleep thick in his voice. “Food and hunting later, sleep now.” He snuggled in, shifting his hips into just the right position, and then relaxed, heavy and boneless right there on top of Dean.

 

Dean had been antsy and annoyed all day. But as he snuggled into Sam and smiled, those feelings were gone. He was comfortable and sleepy. His eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep, though he was still fully aware of Sam.


	6. Chapter 6

Research, for the most part, bored the living fuck out of Dean. Sam, on the other hand, seemed happy as a clam to while away the last few hours of daylight in a dusty, smelly old library, going through microfiche and newsprint.

 

Luckily for Sam, it didn’t take too terribly long to find all of the articles and print them off—Sam kept it to himself that he hurried because he didn’t want Dean to start in on the people in the library before they could finish their hunt. After, definitely if Dean was up to it, but not before the hunt. Sam wanted to go after prey that could actually put up enough of a fight to get his heart thumping.

 

After the library, Sam dragged Dean to a diner and set all of his research on the table with a notepad so that he could sketch out a rough map of where all of the killings were taking place so that they’d have an idea where to start hunting for whatever was killing people. Sam tossed around a couple of ideas about what they were hunting, circling mostly around werewolves and black dogs, but Dean didn’t care enough about the hunt to offer actual commentary other than “We’re gonna kill it either way; who cares what it is?”. They ate in relative peace after that, with Sam mumbling to himself about the case while Dean paid close attention to the people, picking out annoying ones and imagining how he’d kill them. 

 

When they’d eaten their fill, Sam dragged Dean out of the diner and back to the motel to gather up weapons they’d need for the hunt. Sam chose twin silver blades and a Taurus with consecrated silver bullets, and Dean a pair of Glocks with the same rounds as Sam.

 

Dean was fairly sure that Sam had been expecting that he would be disinterested in this hunt pretty much through and through. He wasn't a hunter, he had no desire to follow the lifestyle and it was only because Sam wanted to do this that he was even going along with it. Sam was the type who could bury his nose in a book and plan shit out, Dean was happy not taking that approach. Sort of saw it as a pussy way to go about it. 

 

Whatever though; this was Sam's show and when and if they found the thing Dean was all for ripping it apart. Other than that, he would have been insulted if he seriously thought Sam believed he couldn't control himself at the library or anywhere else. There was a difference between not being able to, like how he was when he was with Sam, and not caring enough to, as in how he was when he hunted his kind of prey. 

 

Once they were back at the motel Dean made a face, looking the guns over. This reminded him way too much of his mother and he didn’t like it, but he kept it to himself. That he was good at anyway, just keeping it to himself. He understood the need to hunt and kill this thing, not because of what it was doing but because it would actually fight back. Most of the people they killed tried but didn't get very far. 

 

"Okay, so where are we starting?" Dean asked as he put the first gun on safety and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

 

“Bell Road,” Sam replied. “About three blocks west of the library, I think. Most of the killings took place in that general vicinity, all of the victims had their hearts ripped out, and all of them were torn to shreds. People in the area complained of dogs howling and barking the nights of the murders.” Eagerness lit Sam’s eyes, brightened his face, and he nearly bounced out of his skin. “Moon’s full and high; we should go. I’m leaning more toward werewolves if only because of the missing hearts. Black dogs don’t go for that, usually.” He paced to the door and back to the bed, checking his knives and gun repeatedly.

 

Dean nodded his head and checked his other gun, putting its place before his eyes returned to Sam. He smirked, he couldn't help it. Sam was excited about the hunt, Dean could tell it just by looking at him. "Alright, you ready, then?" he asked as he watched Sam rechecking his weapons. He headed for the door and watched with mild interest. If this was how excited Sam got, Dean might have to reconsider hunting once in a blue moon. He licked his lips and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on.

 

Sam was right on Dean’s heels as he went out the door, slinging his jacket on as he closed the door behind him. He was excited and eager and if they didn’t get a move on soon he was afraid that he’d end up running down the road and diving into the hunt by himself. “Come on, baby, let’s hunt.” He hurried around to the side of Dean’s car and slid smoothly inside, closing the door before Dean had even gotten to the driver’s side.

 

Dean headed to the driver's side and got in, closing the door and starting the car up. He headed towards the library. The odd, uncomfortable itch was back under Dean's skin and the more they talked about this hunt the more noticeable it got. It was weird; it wasn't the normal itch he had, nothing at all like when he had to have Sam. He hadn't been hunting like this in forever so he was more than happy to let Sam take the lead. He assumed it would come back to him but it hadn't kicked in so far. Heading west, he looked around for the road before turning onto it a few minutes later.

 

Awareness buzzed along every one of Sam’s nerves the closer they got to the epicenter of the killings and Sam’s hands clenched tighter and tighter; one gripping the door handle and the other fisted on his rapidly bouncing thigh. “S-stop,” he stuttered out, scrabbling for the lever to get out of the car. “Here, right here. It’s…” he shoved his nose to the window, right up into the small wedge of space where he’d rolled it down earlier, and breathed deeply. “Right here.”

 

The annoyance and the buzz busting through Dean's nerves got worse and worse and he shifted uncomfortably, clearly ready to kill something. He stopped the car and moved to get out. It didn't occur to him to think that Sam catching the thing’s scent was abnormal. Once out of the car, a stronger need to find the thing it him. Like a dog protecting its home, this wasn't their land but these were their victims the thing was after and Dean couldn't have that. He didn't say anything as he got out, now in the mind frame to hunt and destroy.

 

Once the door closed behind Sam, he put his nose in the air and followed after Dean. Whatever was out there wasn’t too far ahead of them. Probably startled off by the sound of tires and breaks scrubbing. Sam drew his knives free of their sheaths and gripped them, blades pointed up the back of his arms, better for slashing and stabbing, less chance of the knife being knocked from his hand or an awkward swipe.

 

Sam jogged ahead of Dean, the scent and burn along his skin growing stronger, more irritating. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but he could feel it. That should’ve pinged his radar that something wasn’t right, but it fell second to knowing that their prey was within reaching distance, if only they could find it.

 

Dean chased after Sam. He could hear their prey running, and listened as it moved further away from them. Danger and excitement ripped hard through his nerves. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears and through his veins, but the feelings drew him on rather than offering escape. He pulled the gun from the back of his belt and cocked it. The safety came off easily as he hurried to catch up to Sam.

 

“You smell that?” he asked. It wasn’t the wolf. It was blood. Human blood.

 

“Fuck, you want to check this out and let me follow that thing, or do you wanna chase and let me check this out?” Sam asked, slowing to a stop and staring at Dean. He needed to do something fast: his body was already crying out against stopping. However, he needed to coordinate with Dean or they’d end up missing something.

 

Dean stopped short and looked from one direction to the other. He didn't want to part ways with Sam but his thoughts were the same: they needed to check out both. He couldn't let Sam go by himself, but at the same time Dean wasn't used to hunting Sam’s way anymore. "Your call, Sam; you know what you’re doing here, but put your phone on so we can hear each other," he said. His body called him to move; his mind bitched that he had stopped.

 

Sam put away one of his knives. “I’ll go after that thing, you check to see what it killed. I’ve got my phone on.” Sam jogged over to Dean, grabbed him tight, and smashed their lips together in a hard kiss. “I’m calling you right now, okay? Keep talking to me, even if I go silent for a minute. I can’t let that thing get the drop on me by talking a lot and drawing attention to myself.” He pressed a softer kiss to Dean’s mouth. “I love you, baby. Be right back.” He turned and jogged off, phone out and thumb moving over the keypad. Dean’s phone rang a second later.

 

“Okay, alright; love you too. Be careful!” Dean called back. It sounded pathetic, but this was his Sam they were talking about and…. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone as he headed off the other way. He put it on speaker and headed through a small patch of trees, the scent of blood filling his nose and throat, calling him in the right direction. The faster he found whatever this thing killed, the faster he could get to Sam.

 

Sam couldn’t take the chance of putting Dean on speaker, so he kept his phone at his ear, barely listening to Dean’s light footsteps crunching the grass. Most of his attention was focused on the god-awful stench the creature gave off. He jogged as fast as he dared, unwilling to miss it if the thing backtracked or doubled back to go after its kill. Dean’s safety was in his hands.

 

Dean moved through the trees and came on a scene that would have disturbed anyone else. Two children and someone Dean assumed to be their babysitter had been torn apart. Throats had been torn open. Arms and legs were twisted or broken, with bones poking through their skin. Puddles of blood marked where they had been ravaged. He looked around. An older house was to the right, but it seemed no one inside had realized what had happened yet.

 

He shook his head. The thing worked fast, he would say that much. He inhaled deeply, scenting the air, and found nothing else. Dean pulled the phone from his pocket. “Christ, Sam, I never saw anything like this before,” he confessed, “even from us.”

 

“Dead, I’m guessing?” came Sam’s voice over the speakerphone. “You don’t smell anything else, right? I’ll be royally pissed off if there’s a second one.”

 

"Dead and inside out," Dean replied as he turned away. He heard a door opening up at the house and ducked back in the trees, heard a scream as he rolled his eyes. "No, I don't think so. I only smell him," he answered as he headed towards where Sam had gone, but remained alert just in case.

 

“Okay, head back to me,” Sam’s voice came over the line, breathing just a bit harder than he had been. “You’ll have to head about a mile down from where I saw you last; this fucker is fa—sonofabitch!” Sam bellowed.

 

Dean heard the phone clatter to the ground. “Sam! Sam!” he called out, but closed the phone when it became apparent the line was dead. He took off, faster than a human should be able to run. He followed Sam’s scent easily, and made it to him in record time. Dean’s eyes were wide and angry. He was ready to kill. Yet when he skidded to a stop, he found Sam bleeding down one arm and a dead… thing at his feet. Its chest was littered with rapid, sloppy stab wounds, and Sam was snarling as he sawed the thing’s head off.

 

“Goddamn fucker jumped me from behind,” Sam said angrily, pissed at himself for getting injured and even more pissed that the thing had gotten the drop on him.

 

Dean put the safety on the gun and put it down to kneel next to Sam. Sam seemed to have the thing under control, but Dean didn't like the blood pouring out of his arm. He licked his lips and looked the thing over. "Well, I guess you certainly showed it," he said, his eyes still on the bleeding wound.

 

With a last crack, a squelch, and scrape of silver blade against bone, the head rolled away. Sam pulled back and sat on his haunches. “It’s overkill, I know, but it pissed me off. It was either that or snap at you all night, and I’d rather not take my bad mood out on you.”

 

Dean smiled. "Hey, you know I love to watch you work with a knife. Come on let's burn this thing so we can get back and get you fixed up." He pushed himself up.

 

Sam wiped his blade on the thing—hell, it was human now. “Goddamn werewolves,” he growled, sheathing his knife and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s get the gas and salt and light this bitch up. You wanna do the honors or should I?” he asked, glancing around at the field they were standing in. It wasn’t far from houses, and the grass was dry—he’d have to make a fire break to make sure it didn’t spread and take out the whole damn town. He wasn’t against killing people, but burning them to death wasn’t exactly his thing.

 

Dean smirked. "Please, my mother taught never leave the car without them." He pulled a small flask of lighter fluid, a lighter and bag of salt from his inside pockets. He put the gun away and set the stuff down to the side. "You got to kill the thing while I was playing with the dead toddlers back there, so at least let me burn it," he joked as his eyes followed Sam's.

 

“If I didn’t think it would earn me a glare, I’d call you a Boy Scout,” Sam teased, and then started building up the fire break with clods of wet grass and old wood. “You wouldn’t happen to have a shovel in that jacket, would you? It would be easier to dig down a few feet and drop this bitch in it before we lit it up.”

 

"What do I look like, Mary Poppins?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. "And you can call me a lot of things but Boy Scout isn't one of them. We could just head back into the trees and dump it there," he suggested with a shrug.

 

“Yeah, that’d be easier all around.” Sam dropped the bundles of wet grasses and grabbed up the head that had rolled a little away, dropping it on the corpse’s belly before moving to grab its arms. “You gonna help or just stare at me?”

 

Dean set the lighter and shit down on the corpse and looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow. "Keep it up and I'll give you another bleeding wound when we get back," he warned as he grabbed the thing's legs and started to move back into the trees and woods again.

 

Sam’s jaw flexed but he made no further comment and silently helped Dean carry the body into the woods. The head lolled sickly on the corpse’s belly, and Sam couldn’t help but glare at it. It was this thing’s fault that he was in such a bad mood to begin with. If it hadn’t been for this thing deciding to chow down on people, he and Dean wouldn’t have had to go separately and he wouldn’t have gotten injured.

 

Dean could feel Sam's mood and wasn't really sure how to handle it. Normally when Sam got bitchy Dean held him down and fucked his brains out. Same the other way around. This was different though. He moved deeper into the trees quickly and sighed. "Here good?" he asked.

 

“Yeah, here’s fine.” Sam dropped his end of the corpse, watching the head roll away. “I’m sorry I let that thing get the drop on me,” he said, mood shifting from cranky to sullen in the space of just a few seconds. “I should’ve paid closer attention, but I was trying to listen to make sure that it wasn’t doubling back to get to you.”

 

Dean dropped his end and looked back up at Sam a second before nodding. "You're okay, so it's fine," he lied, because it wasn't fine. Nothing getting that close to Sam was ever fine. He didn't even like it when people looked at him, let alone touched or hurt him. The mood shift caught Dean off guard but the wonder of it faded. His skin still itched and his nerves still ached, worse with the thing’s blood in the air. He took a deep breath, disgust clearly on his face as he inhaled it again. Dean grabbed the salt, pouring the whole bag over it before adding fluid. "Let's just get rid of this fucking thing and get out of here."

 

Sam stood back to let Dean enjoy burning the body, surreptitiously checking his arm to make sure that thing had only clawed him. The last thing he needed was to turn into one of those fuckers—he knew Dean wouldn’t kill him, and holing up around the full moon would put a serious cramp in their lifestyle.

 

Dean lit the body and stepped back to watch it burn. The smell only got worse—wasn’t fire supposed to clean shit? He looked back at Sam. "You okay?" It wouldn't matter to him if Sam was bitten, wasn't like that would change anything, though it would be considerably easier if it was just a claw mark. "Come on, let's go," he said.

 

“I need to wash this out to make sure it just clawed me,” Sam said, following behind Dean. He kept all of his senses on alert, wanting to know the second something out of place happened. He couldn’t put Dean’s safety in jeopardy the way he could his own. “You’re not injured, are you?” It was a stupid question: Sam would’ve smelled it the moment Dean got close if he was bleeding.

 

Dean was in a rush: he had to get Sam back to the motel to clean that wound out. "No I'm fine, just worried about getting you back and cleaned up," he said, half ready to drag Sam through the woods if he had to. He could smell that thing on Sam but no blood or fluids.

 

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam replied, but moved up to walk beside Dean anyway. “Probably get there faster if we at least jogged. And, hey, I’ll try not to bleed on your upholstery.”

 

"Like I care about that." Dean looked at Sam as he came up closer to him and he nodded. "It might not be bad but the smell of blood could easily get you on something else's radar." His nerves and senses were on overdrive right then as he hurried them to the car.

 

Sam sighed heavily but jogged to keep pace with Dean. It took much more time to get to the car than it had to follow the werewolf, but they still made it back in good time. Luckily for Sam, the bleeding had tapered off to a sluggish flow that dripped intermittently. 

 

It really did seem like it took forever to get back to the car but he didn't say anything. Dean made his way to the car and got into the driver's side. He started the car and waited for Sam to get settled. He felt better once they were in the car.

 

“You’re pissed off,” Sam said lightly, his injured arm cradled across his legs so that he wouldn’t leave blood all over the car. Dean might not care at the moment, but he might end up bitching about it later if Sam bled everywhere.

 

"You're bleeding and it makes me uncomfortable," Dean said simply as he pulled out of the space and headed back to the motel. Dean’s protective instincts were just as keen and serious as Sam's were.

 

“I already apologized for that. Look, I’ll heal up soon and you won’t have to worry about it, okay?” Sam said tiredly, dropping his head back against the seat. He let his eyes slide closed. “I’ll still be up for our usual brand of hunting. Besides, this is nothing. You’ve seen the scars I’ve got; I’ve been hurt worse than this before. It won’t slow me down.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about you slowing down, I'm worried about…." Dean was going to try to explain but he didn't know how. He didn't know why he was so bothered by the fact that Sam was hurt. "I don't know," he said as he turned on the road their motel was on.

 

“You’re worried about me,” Sam murmured and turned his head, shooting Dean a fond look. “I’m really okay, baby. Just a couple of scratches, promise. You can check me over when we get back, okay?”

 

Dean looked back at Sam and shrugged. He was used to be being with Sam all the time. He didn't like being apart for him. The one time they were apart since they left Sam's house together and… this happened, seriously! He nodded and pulled into the parking lot. "Alright," he agreed.

 

Sam leaned over and kissed Dean’s cheek before sliding out of the car. Knowing that Dean was growly and pissy because Sam’d been injured made Sam grin like an idiot. It didn’t make sense that he was happy that Dean was upset, but he couldn’t help but feel good that Dean was pissed off on his behalf. He hurried up to the door and got it unlocked, headed inside so he could strip off and get his arm rinsed off so that Dean could get a good look at him.

 

He couldn't help but smile slightly though he was obviously still put out. Sam was the only person that could easily get under Dean's skin to drive him insane, make him happy, or piss him the fuck off. Dean went to the trunk of the car and got the small first-aid kit they kept there. He followed Sam inside and moved to the bed, pulling his jacket off and throwing it off to the side. He put the kit down and looked towards the bathroom where Sam was.

 

The torn over shirt Sam had been wearing lay in a ragged heap near the foot of the bed. The blood-smeared tee shirt crumpled by the blood- and dirt-encrusted jeans just outside the bathroom door. Water running in the sink, the sounds of splashing, and Sam’s hissed breaths sounded softly in the bathroom as he cleaned the cuts.

 

Dean walked from the main room to the bathroom as he heard Sam's hissed breaths. The fresh smell of blood filled his nose and he pushed the door open slightly. "Let me help," he offered as he came into the bathroom, moving towards Sam. The deep, bleeding wound over Sam’s right arm was the one that Dean had smelled."You sound like you’re having issues," he joked, though he really needed to take care of Sam. He moved in front of him. 

 

Sam grinned at Dean, shaking his head. “You are so cute,” he said, holding his arm out for Dean to take over the clean up. “I’ve got some pieces of my shirt stuck in the cut, so I’ve been trying to pull them back out.”

 

“Yeah, I see that,” he said, even as he rolled his eyes at being called cute. He moved closer, putting his hand to the side of the wound and studying it carefully. Small beads of blood dripped from the injury. Dean wasn’t thinking as he began to lick it clean. The idea of using a washcloth or his hands instead never entered his head as he followed the odd instinct to clear out the blood, grass, and cloth with his tongue.

 

Hazel-green eyes slid to half mast slowly and a small smile slipped over Sam’s mouth. He cupped a hand over the back of Dean’s neck, thumb and fingers moving soothingly, encouragingly, over the taut muscles. He had the oddest desire to nuzzle and lick Dean’s ear in thanks for taking such good care of him, but he suppressed it, if only barely. Dean had his eyes closed and he took his time, licking over the wound several times to make sure it was cleaned correctly. After he finished with the worst injury, he cleaned the smaller scratches around it, and the ones on Sam’s chest. There was nothing sexual about the actions: it was love, concern, and even a bit of affection.

 

The closer to done Dean got, the more Sam relaxed and the sleepier he became. “Gonna leave town tonight or in the morning, baby?” he asked softly, brushing his nose along Dean’s scalp lightly. “I don’t think we were seen, but a pair of drifters coming through town the night that people end up dead is kind of a warning sign.”

 

Dean licked his lips and looked back at Sam. "I think we should leave tonight. Better not to risk it, you know?" They were used to leaving places at random. They had to watch their backs and Dean needed to always make sure Sam was safe. "Maybe just shower, pack up and head out."

 

“Okay,” Sam agreed easily, the irritation from earlier curiously missing. Nothing buzzed over his skin except for love and happiness at being with Dean. “Shower with me? It’ll save us time.”

 

"Okay," Dean agreed with a soft smile on his lips as he pulled back. He quickly removed his shirt and jeans.

It was kind of cute that Dean had gone all alpha-male on him: taking care of his wound, getting pissed off on his account. Rather than draw attention to the huge grin splitting his face, Sam turned and went to the shower, turning the water on and adjusting the temperature.

 

Sam pulled the lever to shift the stream to shower and stepped in, drawing the curtain back for Dean to join him. “Are you going to need me to stay awake and keep an eye on the map or do you care if I take a nap while you drive?” He frowned a moment later. “And I don’t want to wake up in the morning to find out you haven’t stopped at all. Never mind; I’ll stay up so I can make you stop somewhere.”

 

Dean got in, allowing the hot water to pummel the muscles of his back. He looked back at Sam before shaking his head. "Sam, you can sleep. I'll stop after a few hours of driving, okay?" he promised as he moved to the side to allow some water to pelt Sam as well. Dean did fine without any sleep; but then Sam normally had a fit, which led to a fight. It really wasn't worth it unless angry sex was what Dean was after.

 

Sam eyed him for a long moment, angled away from the water so that it wouldn’t get into his wound. “Okay, but I’m pretty much promising you that I will bite your dick if I wake up and it’s daylight and we haven’t stopped at a motel.” He soaped up a washcloth and started washing Dean’s back.

 

Dean's eyes opened and he looked back at Sam, not seeing a joking expression. He sighed and let his head drop, enjoying the feeling of Sam's hands on his back. "My God, Sam it's like you don't trust me or something," he grumbled and sighed. "But, yeah fine; noted."

 

“Oh, I trust you with my life,” Sam retorted. “I just don’t trust you when you say you’re going to stop ‘in a couple of hours’ because you always drive through the night and then our sleep schedules are all fucked again.”

 

Dean shrugged a bit, not that he could blame Sam, but he wasn't a kid either. Though, since Sam had become a part of his life, he did eat and sleep more. He would never admit it, of course. "Yeah, fine," he mumbled. "Stop in a few hours or you get bitchy, got it."

 

“Hey, I sleep with my head in your lap. Not my fault that that puts your dick within range of my mouth.” Sam moved on to wash Dean’s shoulders and arms, taking care despite his attitude, to wash carefully and thoroughly.

 

Dean took a deep breath and just enjoyed the touching, though he might have honestly punched Sam if he kept up the nagging. "If you bite my dick off, what good is it going to be for me to pin you down and hold a knife to your throat, though? You'll be hurting yourself."

 

“I wouldn’t bite it off; I’d just bite enough to make sure you knew I was pissed.” Sam knelt and started working on Dean’s hips, thighs, and ass, taking the same deliberate care to clean him thoroughly.

 

"I might like it, though," Dean said with a smirk on his lips. He tended to enjoy anything to do with being hurt or hurting Sam. Sometimes they damn near bloodied each other up. Still, a reaction like that from Sam was a turn on to Dean: when Sam got pissed or protective, he really got worked up. Not that Dean was different. He brought his hand up to the wall in front of him to brace himself as Sam worked over his body, the touches welcomed.

 

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Turn around, baby,” he said, patting a soapy flank. “Time to wash the front, and then you get to pack up while I wash.”

 

Dean turned and looked at Sam. "Sounds like a plan." He really wanted to get them on the road as soon as possible. There was another itch starting under his skin, but there wasn't anything close by that was dangerous. That didn't mean it wasn't on its way.

 

“Too bad I can’t take better advantage of this position,” Sam said conversationally, soaping up Dean’s cock with careful sweeps of the washcloth. He sighed and worked down Dean’s legs, washing each foot and between toes before getting to his feet again and washing up Dean’s chest and neck. “Wash your face and then rinse.”

 

Oddly enough, such things were normal between the two. Dean was the type of person who never let anyone touch him, yet whatever Sam did was fine regardless of what it was. He turned and rinsed, as Sam asked, and then rubbed the back of his neck. He turned again and kissed Sam tentatively to thank him and a small smile found its way to his lips. "I'll get everything in the car," he said before pulling away and stepping out of the shower.

 

The nights when they needed to leave in a hurry were the nights that Dean didn’t take the time to wash Sam in return. It was just something that Sam had gotten used to; Sam washed Dean and then Dean packed their shit while Sam rushed through his own shower. The nights when they had plenty of time, though, Dean was just as tender and attentive as Sam was. It was kind of endearing to see a guy like Dean take the time to be sweet and tender, because it happened so rarely.

 

So, now that Dean was off to do his thing, Sam rushed through washing himself up, mostly just hitting the high spots; hair, wound, groin, ass, pits, feet. He’d wash the rest the next time they stopped, or maybe he’d ask Dean to wash him. Either way was good. Sam rinsed as he washed and then shut off the shower, stepping out and snagging a threadbare towel to dry off with.

 

Dean would have much rather stayed with Sam. It was so amazing to him that Sam was so attentive to him: no one had ever been like that... In a way it was almost beautiful, though he'd never say that out loud.

 

He dressed quickly, packed what they were keeping into their bags, and shoved Sam’s shed clothing in a trash bag. He threw it out at the side of the motel, burnt it, and made sure to put out the fire. After putting everything else in the car, he headed back inside.

 

“Did you happen to leave me clean clothes, or am I riding shotgun naked?” Sam asked from the bathroom once the front door closed behind Dean. He leaned out of the bathroom, toweling his hair, to take a quick look for clothes.

 

"On the chair behind the bathroom door," Dean answered, motioning with his chin. "Want to ride naked, be my guest, though." He looked around the room quickly to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

 

“Maybe some other time; it’s not exactly warm outside.” Sam stepped out and grabbed his clothes, tossing aside the towel to dress. “Maybe if we head down south to Louisiana during July I’ll ride naked.” He dragged his jeans up, snatched the tee shirt and over-shirt on, and fastened his pants. He sat down to pull on socks and shoes, and then scrubbed a hand through wet, tussled hair. “Let’s go, baby.”


	7. Chapter 7

The music was loud and the club was full of people. It was the best hunting ground because people broke off from one another easily when something new and better came along. Dean didn’t drink much, if at all, when hunting. Oddly enough ninety-five percent of the people here weren't even old enough to be in a bar but it didn't stop any of them from getting trashed. Again… happy hunting grounds. 

 

Dean had left Sam at the bar but he could still see him out of the corner of his eye as he had made his way over to a young blond. She had been eyeing him for the better half of the night and the fuck-me eyes she was sending him had made her a very easy target: one of those people that seriously deserved what Sam and he were going to do to her. Still, he wasn't into women so it was weird that when he caught her scent she had his full attention, and that when she grabbed onto him he leaned into her touch. When she danced against him, he didn’t just allow it for the reason of making her comfortable, but because his body wanted her. He was very curious about her and he didn’t know why because she was a motherfucking moron. There was a weird itch under his skin and he lost himself in that. His dick twisted and he wanted her. 

 

She was easily a two-cent bitch and half drunk off her ass. The drunken smell kept him from wondering too hard about her because, seriously…? At some point, she brought up his boyfriend and a threesome and how she was all for it. He pointed Sam out. Her eyes bulged and she asked for a length, to which Dean simply smirked before pulling her towards Sam. She drew his attention almost like Sam had the first time he meant him, though the itch under his skin wasn’t as strong. "Mandy, this is my boyfriend, Sam; Sam, this is Mandy." 

 

Mandy raised an eyebrow and looked Sam over. She smiled. "Everything you said and more," she commented, her eyes hungry. "Where's your car?" she asked, maybe just a little too eagerly.

 

Sam dragged his eyes over the girl that had gained every ounce of his dislike. She’d put her hands on Dean, laughed and flirted, danced up close and ground her hips against Dean’s. He wanted nothing more than to rip her to pieces one inch of flesh at a time.

 

“Car’s outside, sugar,” Sam said smoothly and got to his feet. Mandy, or, as he’d dubbed her in his head, Harlot, was a tiny little thing, and looked like much more irritation than she was worth. Most likely she’d get back to their motel room and pass out before they could even start on her. It was tempting to just reach out and snap her neck. “Hope you don’t mind things getting a little kinky, hon. You’ll have a good time, though. I promise.”

 

"Oh yeah, you're in for one hell of a night," Dean added. They would take their time with this one. 

 

Mandy smirked, obviously comfortable and ready to get down with this. "You can't be too kinky for me," she answered smugly. 

 

"Okay, well let's get this show on the road shall we?" Dean asked as she finished her drink and put the glass down on the bar, the smile never leaving her face as Dean nudged Sam and headed for the door. He grabbed Mandy’s hand again and Mandy bounced as they got out the door.

 

Sam strolled out behind the pair, already deciding how this game would play out. It was his turn to drive, metaphorically speaking, and he had everything planned out in his head as to how this encounter would go. 

 

When the trio got to the car, Sam gallantly opened the front passenger’s side door and let Mandy the Harlot slide into the seat. He closed it, shot Dean a neutral look, and then climbed into the backseat. The fact that she seemed to fixated on Dean made the plans Sam had come up with a little harder to pull off, but they were doing this his way. “So, Mandy, are we driving you home after, or do you want to spend the night?” he asked, just simple conversation to keep her from crawling into Dean’s lap and riding him like a prized stallion.

 

Mandy smiled. "Thank you," she said as Sam got in the back. At least they seemed to be a pair of gentlemen—that was overly rare. She sat down and turned to look at Sam as he spoke. "I guess it depends on how good the night is and how much you wear me out." Her eyes fell on Dean again as he got into the driver’s side. "Hell, I'll stay though." 

 

Dean shrugged as he got into the car and looked into the mirror at Sam as second before starting the car. "Believe me, by the end of the night you'll be dead to the world." He pulled out and turned towards their motel. Her hand shifted down his legs and his eyes found her body again, lust in his eyes. 

 

“So, what do you expect out of this, Mandy?” Sam asked, smiling adorably. In this type of situation, Sam might’ve reached out and ran a finger down her arm, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, but at the moment he hated her so badly for touching what wasn’t hers that if he put his hands on her he’d wring her fucking neck.

 

Mandy laughed and shook her head at Dean. She sat back, angling enough that she could see and easily talk to both Sam and Dean. "To have my brains fucked out," she answered honestly. "Why, do you have something else in mind?" she asked him. 

 

Sometimes women and men needed to be relaxed more for the drive or the walk out but Mandy, she was all for this. It made life so much easier when prey literally walked through the front door. Dean settled back. "Yeah, we try not to disappoint, fuck you hard enough you don’t walk right tomorrow, I’m pretty good at that." It was like this bitch was in heat and Dean needed to answer that. 

 

A pasted-on smile curved Sam’s mouth and he squinted. God, this woman was so dense that it was a wonder she had enough brains to breathe and walk at the same time. “We’re going to fuck you; what I was asking was did you have any positions in mind? Would you be able to handle Dean fucking you from behind while I fucked your mouth?”

 

Dean almost slammed on the breaks as he looked back at Sam, surprised but smiling nonetheless. He hadn’t really been paying attention to his own behavior or words, but clearly Sam was reading his mind loud and clear. They never fucked anyone. He shot a look at Sam in the review mirror, and opened his mouth to say something in agreement only to have Mandy laugh a little too high-pitched. "You could both fuck me from behind and I'll take it nice and comfortable, thank you."

 

“Excellent.” Sam sat forward and rested a heavy hand on the back of Dean’s neck, thumb stroking lightly at the short hairs at the base. He squeezed once, reassurance that he knew what he was doing.

 

Dean smiled and leaned back, clearly pleased. His body reacted more to Sam’s touch than the idea of anything else in the car. His eyes shifted from Sam to Mandy, stayed on Mandy for a bit, and then returned to the road. "So, how much further?" Mandy asked as Dean made a right.

 

“Almost there, sugar. Keep your legs crossed nice and tight; we wouldn’t want you to stick to the seat. I can smell you from here; so wet that it’ll probably trail down your legs when you get out of the car.” Sam kept his tone low, soft, and whiskey rough, just to lull her a bit further into a sense of security. The hilarious part of this entire fiasco was that he wasn’t even hard, even with the cloying scent of her desire crammed up his nose.

 

Dean would have laughed had he been in the mood because he could actually smell her and it was making him itchy. Mandy rolled her eyes. "Jesus, for such a gentleman you have a very dirty mouth. Any chance of you doing something other than talking?" she playfully challenged as Dean pulled in the parking lot of the motel and parked in front of their door. 

 

“We’ll take excellent care of you,” Sam murmured and got out of the car. He opened the door for Mandy the Harlot and offered his hand to help her out of the car.

 

Dean was crawling out of his skin. He hadn’t looked at anyone since he and Sam got together. Mandy eagerly took Sam’s hand and followed him to the motel door. As Dean came up behind them she reached out, running a hand down his chest. She looked between one boy and the other, clearly excited for the night to begin now.

 

She turned and reached for Sam, gripping his jeans tightly. “So, you as big as I think you are or does Mr. Green-Eyes win in that department?”

 

Sam’s lips twitched and he unlocked the motel room door and pushed it aside, held his hand out in a gesture for her to go in. “Ladies first,” he said, smoothly ignoring her blatant crotch grabbing, and then shot Dean a speaking look before following her inside.

 

The room was still neatly put together: Sam’s bag and Dean’s bag tucked into the one chair, the bed still made from where the maid had gotten the room ready for them. They’d only been in town long enough to drop off their bags before heading out for a kill, skin itching for it.

 

Mandy walked in and looked around before turning to the boys again. She reached out and grabbed Sam's belt and then Dean's. "So, my skin is itching; can we get this going before I pin one of you down?" she asked, pressing against Dean again. This time she was looking for a kiss, which Dean gave her before pulling her in and shoving her lips apart with his tongue. When it ended, she looked to Sam for more of the same, mouth wet and sloppy. Dean kept his eyes on Sam while she kissed him. It looked weird and it bothered him but the insane buzz going through his head blocked it out. 

 

When Mandy pulled herself off of Sam’s face, he pushed her back a bit. “Show us what you’ve got, Mandy. Strip,” he ordered and grabbed Dean by the arm, dragging him to the bed, forcing him down onto his back and settling in right beside him, fingers tracing absently over the skin of Dean’s belly. “Trust me,” he whispered just loud enough for Dean to hear.

 

“Be quick about it before I pin your little skinny ass down and do it myself,” Dean added, leaning into Sam. He tasted her on his mouth and licked his lips, pushing himself up a bit to watch her. 

 

Mandy only laughed. "Um, how is it fair if I'm the only one naked?" she asked but still reached for her shirt, pulling the buttons open easily. A tight black bra came into view and she moved to unzip the tight, short skirt around her hips, and let it fall to give the boys a nice view.

 

Sam let his gaze rake over Mandy—huh, matching black panties and she was just as wet as he’d thought. It trailed down the inside of one thigh, thin and glistening, and Sam pushed up from the bed. “Right, right; go ahead and finish stripping and we’ll strip each other,” Sam said, gesturing between himself and Dean.

 

Mandy slipped both panties and bra off and threw one to each of the boys. “Like what you see, boys?” she asked. 

 

Dean licked his lips, his hand tight on Sam’s thigh. He turned back to Sam. Mandy was different, new, and she confused him because she smelled so fucking good. She did have a cunt, though, and since he’d never fucked one before he wanted to know what it was like. He wanted to know if she screamed or jerked like Sam did when they fucked.

 

“Very much,” Sam replied, fighting to keep his voice calm and even. From this close, Sam could smell just how much Dean wanted this girl and it pissed him off to a degree that he was afraid he might actually injure Dean once the little harlot was out of the way. Dean was only going to get to fuck her for a very short time. He peeled Dean’s shirt off, helped him shuck off his jeans, and gripped Dean’s cock in a tight fist, warning him silently. “Wrap this up,” he growled into Dean’s ear and then nudged Dean at Mandy.

 

Dean gasped a little when Sam's hand was around his dick and he frown for a second, did they even have condoms anymore? Dean’s pupils were wide and dark and his eyes stayed pinned to Sam, despite smelling Mandy across the room. He was pretty sure that he could smell her from five miles away. His mind shifting from Sam to Mandy, back and forth so fast it was giving him a headache. 

 

Sam stripped out of his own clothes, folding them neatly so that he could have a minute to calm himself. If he didn’t, he’d start ripping Mandy apart right that second. He needed to teach Dean a lesson, and it would stick in his head stronger if the lesson was gory and ended with very possessive sex.

 

Dean moved to his bag and found his old stash. He reached for Mandy in the next second, shoving her down onto the bed on her stomach. She giggled and wiggled, looking back at Dean’s cock. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Dean’s, and bulged when she caught sight of Sam’s. "Come on, boys, I'm going to be dried up by the time you get this going," she warned, and then Dean's hand fell onto her back. She bit her lip and pushed her legs apart.

 

“Hands and knees,” Sam said tersely and then grabbed his pack and started rifling through it. He went back to the bed with a silver metal O-ring, which he waved in Mandy’s face before settling down on his knees right in front of her on the bed. “This goes in your mouth, between your teeth, so that you won’t bite me when you come,” he explained, and squeezed hard at Mandy’s jaw to force it open. He pushed it into her mouth, just behind her teeth and sat back.

 

“Looks good on you. Dean, fuck her in the ass; no prep. Just shove into her cunt to get good and wet, and then drive right in.” San cupped Mandy’s face between his palms and guided her mouth to his cock. She couldn’t play with him, tease him, with the ring in her mouth, but then she wasn’t doing anything for him. The only reason he was hard at all was because he could smell Dean’s desire.

 

Mandy’s breath hitched but she stayed relaxed, moving back and trying to get Dean to move but shuddered a bit; no prep and in the ass? Dean gripped her hips and shoved into her hard, just like Sam told him to. She screamed but was already gagged on Sam's massive dick and couldn't do much about it.

 

Sam’s fists curled tightly into Mandy’s hair, holding her mouth down around him. He didn’t thrust, didn’t let Dean’s thrusts into her give him any kind of stimulation. He simply held her still, cock shoved deep into her throat, blocking her airway. Hard, furious hazel-green stayed pinned to Dean the whole time. Now all he had to do was wait for her to choke to death. And maybe he’d snap her neck for good measure before taking what was his, writing his claim of ownership into Dean’s skin with his teeth.

 

Dean shoved into her but it was almost disappointing. Yeah, she felt tight around his dick but she didn't move like Sam did, she didn't do anything she just sort of laid there. He didn’t realize that she was finding it hard to breathe, didn’t notice Sam’s rage and utter silence. He gripped her hips and slammed into her as hard as he could a few times until he could feel and smell blood. 

 

Mandy was trying to breathe but Sam was choking her. She tried to pull back but Dean was only shoving her harder into Sam. After a few seconds, panic set in and she tried to push herself up with her hands. Deep, brutal thrusts caused more muffled screams, which only caused her to lose more air. Breathing through her nose wasn't helping.

 

The short, thin wafts of breath against Sam’s belly made him frown and he reached down and pinned her nose shut, his other hand moving around to the back of her head to hold her in place. She was drooling because she couldn’t close her mouth and was trying like hell to pant around his cock, but he was too well lodged into her throat for her to get more than the thinnest breath. 

 

“You look like you’re having fun, Dean,” Sam said conversationally, though his gaze was frosty and his eyes were hard; none of the love that usually blazed from his eyes was apparent, like it had all vanished. “If you come, I’m going to make sure it’s the last orgasm you ever have.”

 

Mandy started to jerk and scream, tears welling in her eyes. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode. Dean grabbed her wrists and held them to her back. Dean held her pinned and looked at Sam, a light laugh hanging in the back of his throat. He stopped, still buried in her ass, eyes locked on Sam's cold glare. He tried to smile and rolled his eyes. "Mood shift, Sam?" he asked pulling out of her slightly.

 

Sam just tipped his head to the side and stared Dean down. “No. My mood has been the same since you let this cunt wrap herself around you on the dance floor. You were just too busy drooling over her to notice.” He pulled out of her mouth, let go of her nose, and gripped her head, tired of the game already. With a sharp, loud crack he broke her neck. He tossed her body aside, the cold fury still blazing in his eyes, and leaped at Dean, tackling him off of the bed and onto the floor. 

 

"Fuck!" Dean cried out, knees making contact with the wooden floor as he tried to shift and buck Sam off.

 

“What made you think you could sniff around some fucking skirt?” Sam growled low, pinning Dean awkwardly but firmly on the floor. He held Dean on his belly, knees jammed in the backs of Dean’s thighs, one hand on the back of Dean’s neck while the other scratched deep furrows into the sensitive skin of Dean’s side. “What made you think I would be okay with letting you fuck some random girl? I thought I’d made it apparent before, but I’ll explain it in a bit more detail now, just so you don’t forget.” Sam bent down and latched his teeth into Dean’s neck, bit down hard, angrily, until hot blood flooded his mouth. He sucked it down, shoved Dean’s thighs further apart, and pressed the head of his cock at Dean’s asshole, snarling viciously.

 

"Get off me, Sam," Dean demanded as tried to twist away but—when the hell did Sam get this strong? He pulled his neck away but Sam had his skin hard between his teeth. He had been hard inside Mandy, but then Sam's look killed his erection. Now though, his dick pressed hard against the floor as his muscles clenched trying to keep Sam out. "No, Goddamn it! It wasn't like that; get off, let me explain." Though he wasn't sure how to explain: it was just that his body wanted her because she had wanted him. He never felt anything like that before. Right now it didn’t matter because Sam was shoving at him and he wasn't used to not fighting back better.

 

Sam forced his way inside Dean, slicked only by the swiftly drying spit Mandy’s mouth had left on his dick. It was only then that Sam’s teeth left Dean’s neck. “Mine!” he snarled, voice more animal than human, and he drew his hips back, slamming hard into Dean’s ass again, so hard that Dean’s hipbones would bear the bruises from the floor.

 

Dean was still fighting and getting nowhere, which was pissing him off even more. His dick pressed against the floor, causing him to gasp and a small puddle of pre-come to form. Need ripped right through his ass and his dick ached. His head dropped forward, but he was not yet ready to stop fighting. Sam's snarl sent a spark of pleasure right from his belly, but he tried his best to ignore it because - fuck! - Sam had his dick in her mouth - so what the hell?

 

Sam kept up a near constant babble after that one word tore from his mouth. “Don’t get to want anyone else, don’t get to fuck anyone else; mine, mine, mine,” he growled, punctuating his words with vicious thrusts of his hips, cock splitting Dean open. “You wanted her, could smell it on you. You wanted to fuck her right there in the fucking bar, in the bathroom maybe, up against the wall; filthy and disgusting—you can’t do that anymore. No one gets to have you ever again. Only mine, mine, mine, mine—my Dean-mate mine!”

 

Dean gasped as waves of harsh pleasure and stabbing pains started to shove away the anger and the confusion. He moaned and tried to bury his face in the floor, but it did no good: he pushed up to meet Sam's thrusts. Sam was right: he had wanted her. "N-no," he half whined, though he knew it was a lie.

 

He could feel blood sliding along his neck and down his balls, hear it dripping to the floor between his legs and at his neck. "S-S-Sam!" he screamed, his dick ready to explode. He belonged to Sam, he knew he did, but fuck, that girl's scent had fucked his head up so much he'd wanted her instead. "Won't, I-I promise, just p-please!" Though he had no idea what he was begging for: more, or less.

 

The punishing grip Sam had on Dean’s neck vanished, and then Sam was hauling Dean’s hips high into the air, forcing him onto Sam’s cock, pushing deeper. One hand slid from Dean’s hip to his cock, stroking slowly despite the hard, fast thrusts Sam pounded into him. “Gonna come for me, baby? Only for me?” he purred, draping himself over Dean’s back to lick and suck at the bloody bite he’d left in Dean’s skin.

 

Dean relaxed and lifted his head, pushing himself back into Sam's mouth. "Nobody else, ever, Sam; I swear, no one, no one, you, just you," he promised. His dick took four slow tugs before completely exploding over Sam's fist and the floor. He reached back, clawing at the limited areas of Sam within range purely out of desperation and need.

 

“Yeah,” Sam growled and let go of Dean’s dick, fucking into him wild and desperate, seeking out his own release now that his mate had come. It only took a few more strokes; five, ten, twelve—and then Sam bit down into the open, bloody wound again, cock pulsing as he came, spilling thick wads of come into Dean’s abused ass.

 

Dean panted as his body came to terms with one of the best orgasms he ever had, thought his mate had scared him a little. It was such an insane feeling for someone to feel so strongly for you that it was beyond human: more animal, raw and unquestionable. Wet, sticky-hot come ran down his leg and he reached back, needing to touch Sam anywhere he could reach, begging for the contact.

 

Sam dragged his teeth out of Dean’s neck and bit at his wrist, leaving smears of Dean’s blood on the skin. It was only a small tear, but it was enough to bleed. Sam lifted his bleeding wrist to the chewed wound in Dean’s neck and pressed wound to wound, mingling their blood. “Mine,” he rasped, dragging his wrist away and easing out of Dean’s ass, flopping to the side and dragging Dean into his side.

 

Dean whimpered as Sam pulled out of him, smelling Sam's blood in the air mixed with his own. He took a deep breath, unable to say anything, and nodded his head in agreement. Dean turned the moment he was against Sam's side, hiding his face in Sam's neck, wrapping his arms and legs around him and clinging tightly. "Sorry, Sam, s-so s-sorry; promise I won't do anything like that a-again," he babbled. "Yours, promise, p-please," he begged.

 

“Shh, baby,” Sam crooned, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair gently. He nudged Dean’s chin up and stared down into his pretty face, smiling. The smeared blood around his mouth made Sam’s smile somewhat gruesome, but the love in his eyes softened that some. “You’re mine, Dean, just like I’m yours. It won’t happen again, I know, baby. Just relax, we’re good.”

 

Fear ran through Dean and he clung to Sam tightly. He looked up into Sam's face and nuzzled against him, his breath hitched and shallow for a few minutes as he held him. He had no idea why all that had happened. He hadn't understood it even though it was happening to his body while he was craving her. It was gone now. The thought of her made him sick and the only thing he could taste or feel in the room was Sam. He nodded his head, but still held Sam closely as he began to calm down. "Love you," he whispered into Sam's skin. "Only yours."

 

Sam tossed a leg over Dean’s hips and dragged him in, tucking Dean up tight against his body. “Just calm down, baby,” he murmured softly in between slow licks and kisses as he took care of his mate. He licked over Dean’s closed eyes, following up with a reverent kiss to the thin skin of each eyelid; licked the bridge of Dean’s nose and then kissed each tiny little freckle, chasing them over Dean’s cheekbones and down to those full, gorgeous lips. “I love you, too, Dean,” he whispered, and then plundered Dean’s mouth like a starving man.

 

Dean soaked up the affection and his body began to relax, a smile spreading over his features as he pushed up into Sam's mouth. He shuddered at the affection, enjoying it before moving up to lick and bite Sam's ear affectionately. He reached his hand up and cupped the back of Sam's head, fingers twisting gently in his hair, keeping him pulled into the kiss. Chasing Sam's tongue with his own, he opened his mouth fully, invitingly.

 

It was a simple matter to roll Dean beneath him again. Sam braced one arm on the floor beside Dean’s head and settled one leg between Dean’s thighs. It was too soon for more sex and Dean would likely be sore for days, but this wasn’t about sex. Sam cradled Dean with his body, rubbing himself against Dean, trying to reconnect, to reclaim all of his territory. He softened the kiss, edged it more toward renewal than desperation, and slowed the desperate laps into Dean’s mouth, encouraging Dean to do the same.

 

Dean rubbed his face against Sam, covering any part he could reach with his own scent, moving on only when he was the only scent in any given area. As he licked over Sam's bottom lip, he felt as if he could never be more at peace than wrapped tightly around Sam. He licked and smoothed over Sam lovingly as Sam's taste spread over his mouth and his body seemed to melt into Sam's. Sam was home and Dean could feel that deep in his bones.


	8. Chapter 8

A heavy sigh filled the near silence of the living room and Matsi shook her head, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders to dangle nearly to the floor in a mass of wide curls. “Are you sure?” she asked, looking up at the scout she’d sent out to check the rumors of insane wolves who hadn’t managed to change.

 

“Yes, ma’am; I saw them with my own eyes.” The scout shuffled her feet as Matsi stood. Her gauzy blue skirt swirled gently around her ankles, hair flapped gently around her calves, the tiny bell dangling from her hair tinkled cheerily, and her loose white blouse shifted around her form as she paced.

 

“Alright. Thank you, Kita. I’ll let London know. Go rest yourself and see your son,” Matsi said softly, scruffing her fingers through Kita’s short blonde hair. She grinned at the lithe female and took her seat again. 

 

Once Kita was gone, though, Matsi sighed again and leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees. “London, we need to talk, my love.”

 

London was in the next room and came in, looking at Matsi as he did. He knew that tone, and he also knew whatever they needed to talk about wasn't going to be enjoyable. Matsi, like he, always had a much more serious tone when dealing with pack business. The pack was, in fact, their responsibility and he joined her with a frown on his face. He was a tall, muscular man with deep, dark eyes with pitch black hair to match. "What is it?" he asked.

 

“We need to send out some of our guardians to look into a certain, delicate matter. There is a pair of wolves, recently mated, who haven’t managed to change. They’re older than they should be, and they appear to be insane; leaving death in their wake.” Matsi stood and went to London’s side, leaning her head against his chest, one hand fisted in the front of his tee shirt. “They are dangerous, if the reports are to be believed, so we need strong guardians to go after them, to either bring them back if they can be reasoned with, or to kill them if they cannot.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her as she spoke. London stopped a moment and looked at her before nodding his head. "Do we know anything more about them? Why they haven't changed?" he asked. He wanted as much detail as possible before sending anyone after them. They needed to be stopped, but sending members in blind was still dangerous. He moved to the door, smelling another member outside. "Saxon, find Lupa, Danny and Seff and tell them to report at once," he ordered the small wolf before heading back to rejoin his mate.

 

Matsi settled onto the couch and drew her legs up, tucking them under her. “I have no idea why they haven’t changed. In all honesty, they came out of nowhere and I have no way to track down their pasts. Both are orphans, and their records are sealed.” She reached out for her mate’s hand and tugged him down beside her.

 

"Odd that we didn't even feel them," London commented. He settled by her and pressed his lips together. "We'll have to give them the information we have before sending them out, because this can't wait. Nonetheless, we need to have some of our scouts look into it more and see what they might be able to dig up. If they are able to be reasoned with, it might help them and if not… we’ll know if we ever run into a pair like them again."

 

A knock came at the door and the moment Matsi called out to invite them in, Danny bounced into the room and made his way to the couple sitting on the couch. “Hi!” he said cheerfully, and leaned down to kiss Matsi’s cheek. “Saxon said you wanted to see us?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder for Lupa and Seff.

 

London turned as Danny came bouncing into the room. Danny had been with the pack for some time now and had actually done much better than London would have thought. A few moments later his mate, Seff, and Seff's sister, Lupa, came in to join them.

 

Lupa bowed slightly, a gentle smile on her face though her eyes were curious, and Seff did the same before joining his mate. "Is something wrong?" Seff asked. 

 

London got up to greet them and nodded his head. "There is and it’s a very serious matter. The scouts have found other wolves nearby, a pair who are killing humans left and right. They need to be stopped at once before they put us all in danger," he explained, "if they haven't already."

 

“It’s possible that they have no idea they’re even wolves, though,” Matsi piped up. “They’ve never changed, and they’re well past the age where they should have.” 

 

Danny’s blue eyes went wide and he fell back against his mate’s chest in surprise. “Are you serious? What happened to stop them from changing?” he asked, looking from London to Matsi and back again.

 

Helping the pair was important, but more the pack was more important. There were fewer of them these days and wolves of such a violent nature…. "Masti is right; it is very possible that they act the way they do because they have never changed." He had never met a wolf who was unable to take his or her true form found himself unable to imagine the hell it could be. 

 

Seff brought his arm around Danny's waist out of habit: the two were nearly always touching in one way or another. He frowned, confused. "That's never happened before, our nature is so strong. It’s…" he started. 

 

"Not possible," Lupa finished for her brother, almost disbelieving. 

 

London looked from one young wolf to the other. "We don't have a lot of answers yet. We want you three to hunt them down and bring them back if you can. Once here, we'll do what we can to help them."

 

“They’re very close, two counties over, but be careful when you confront them. Something is wrong with them if they can’t change, and until you meet up with them and bring them back here, you’re to consider them to be dangerous.” Matsi looked between Lupa, Seff, and Danny, frighteningly aware that she was sending three of her pack into danger.

 

“Don’t worry, Matsi, London; we’ll be careful and we’ll bring them back here. I’m kind of curious about why they haven’t changed, but we’ll figure that out when we get them back here.” Danny laced his fingers with Seff’s on his belly, eyes caught on Matsi’s, trying to assure her with a look that they would be alright.

 

London looked at the three wolves as his own children: he did the same with all the pack members. These three were their most trusted, however, and often the three which Masti and he now met with on matters such as these. They were the new generation, and while he had faith in them, he would not let his affection or worry show. "Yes make sure to watch out for one another and don't cut corners with these two, “he ordered. 

 

"Of course," Lupa promised. "We’ll make sure; no mistakes and won't allow either of them to get the upper hand." 

 

Seff's grip tightened a little on Danny, protective of him as always but also knowing that the three of them could handle this. The pair had yet to shift so it was very possible they were nowhere near as strong as one of them let alone all three. "When should we leave?" he asked, knowing that this was important and there was little time to waste.

 

“As soon as you’re ready,” Matsi replied and folded her hands in her lap. Worry tightened the corners of her wide, generous mouth.

 

“Sure thing, Matsi,” Danny replied, pressing back into Seff to calm him while sending Matsi his widest, most genuine smile. Sure, he was nervous about such an odd situation, and worried that his mate and Lupa could be injured, but there was no reason not to reassure a worried woman.

 

London looked to his mate and then back at three. "Yes, the sooner the better," he agreed. "Keep in touch with us as best you can," he added. 

 

Lupa looked at the pair. "We will and please don't worry for us; we can handle this," she promised. They were dismissed and she moved to the door. "Come on; let’s get ready so we can leave as soon as possible." She headed out the door. 

 

"We will." He promised the alpha, following Lupa. Danny was more than happy to follow Seff out, eager to get going.

 

“They’ll be alright, I’m sure.” Matsi stood and moved to the window to watch the trio make their way to their cabins. “I’ll need your help finding out what has made it so that those boys haven’t changed, London. The only reasons I can think of are that they’ve been hit with magic or something is wrong with them at a genetic level. If it’s the latter of the two, we’ll have no choice but to put them down.”

 

London came up behind Matsi and put his arms around her. "Yeah, I know,” he agreed. "You said they were both orphans so I would suggest we start at their last known location and see if we can track back from there. Whatever pack their parent wolves came from must have lost them somehow or have been wiped out." Their kind could mate with humans and only did so when they had to. A werewolf’s life didn't end normally unless they were killed or hunted. A pup was far too important to just let roam in the human world unless the parent was insane or murdered. "If it is magic, which I hope, it must come from witches or hunters. I don't know anything weak that could possibly overcome our nature, not for this long."

 

“I’ll have Kita research once she’s had some rest. She’s been tailing them since they entered the state.” Matsi leaned back into London’s embrace and dropped her head to rest against his shoulder. “If it’s magic, I should be able to counter it once I know.”

 

London nodded and licked his lips. He was still watching outside though the three were now out of sight. "If it is magic they may settle down once they are able to change," he added, truly hoping that the pair wouldn't need to be put down. He kissed her neck affectionately, holding her close. "We'll work it out somehow, our family always does."

 

Matsi nodded in agreement and then turned, wrapping her arms around London’s hips. “Rest with me for a little while. Your pup drains my strength even this early in my pregnancy.”

 

He laughed and shook his head. He kissed her and pulled her towards the bedroom so they could lie down and relax a while. "Certainly sounds like mine," he joked.


	9. Chapter 9

Generally, Sam cared as little as Dean did about hiding bodies, but they were starting to hear about their work on the news. Sam had finally put his food down and said that if they weren’t going to back off on killing, then they damn well were going to bury the bodies. He knew Dean would roll his eyes if he pushed the issue, so Sam didn’t bother to wait for Dean to get out of the shower before he began dealing with the latest corpse. Besides, if he waited, Dean would talk him back into bed, and they’d have sex instead of cleaning up the mess.

 

The field behind the motel was as good a place as any. Sam hitched a shovel over one shoulder, the sheet-wrapped body over the other, and sauntered out to get to work. The sky was moonless, starless under heavy clouds, and the lack of light was perfect for moving stealthily. Sam dropped the body in the middle of the field, took a quick look around, and started digging.

 

The shovel fell from Sam’s hands as his head came up, eyes darting around for Dean only to fall on the petite redhead standing not too far from him. He eyed her cautiously, anger bleeding into every pore: she smelled of Dean, and it royally pissed him off. “Who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing around Dean?” he demanded, stalking forward.

 

She put her hands up. "I'm here to take you to him," she explained. "He's fine and you will be as well, but we need to speak to you." She stood her ground, fearless.

 

“You couldn’t have just asked like normal human beings?” Sam bit out, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I just left him in the motel room, so that leads me to believe you took him while I was out here.”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, we aren't human and you aren't either, Sam." The redhead shook her head. "And, we did try but your mate is… well, insane, if you haven't noticed, and it didn't work out so well." 

 

In a single, graceful movement, Sam had his gun out of the back of his pants and pointed at the woman’s face. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he snarled, baring his teeth as his anger spiked. “I’m losing my patience. Give me Dean back and I might consider listening to you.”

 

Lupa rolled her eyes. "That's not going to help you." A growl came from the trees and she shook her head. "I will not give him back but I will take you to him. I'm willing to make this as easy as possible but, gun or no gun, you will not bark orders at me."

 

“Sister, I can bark any kind of orders at you that I want to. You’re the one that barged into my life and made off with my mate. If you’d tried talking before kidnapping, I might not’ve given you a hard time, but you fucked up.” Sam squeezed the trigger, smiling coldly as the bullet slammed into her shoulder, spinning her around.

 

The female bared her teeth as the wound made itself known, but recovered quickly. She looked back at him. A wolf came bounding forward and tackled Sam from behind. The growling wolf was smaller than the human, but his strength was enough to pin Sam to the ground. His teeth dug into the back of Sam's neck. The woman gripped her arm and snarled. "Jesus Christ, these two really are perfect for one another." She went up to Sam and kicked him in the head to knock him out.

 

“Hey, Lupa!” A voice called, carrying easily through the woods. “This one is starting to wake up. Make with the mate, please!”

 

"We got him; we'll be there in a second." The woman, Lupa, moved down to pull the motionless body up. The wolf shifted into human form and pushed himself to his feet. 

 

"You okay?" he asked, helping to get Sam to his feet and draping his arm over his shoulder to help carry him. 

 

"Oh please, I'm fine," Lupa answered, rolling her eyes as they carried Sam into the woods. To Danny she called, "Just make sure his bonds are tight, Danny. I don't want to chase his ass around or I might kill him." 

 

“He’s tied good, and I’m sitting on him,” Danny replied, a laugh in his voice, which was quickly followed by the very angry voice of their first captive. “Aaaaaand he’s awake!”

 

Lupa couldn't help but laugh at the sight that Danny just painted in her head. Dean bucked up and tried to shove Danny off of him. "Get the fuck off me, you bitch," he growled just as the two came in with Sam. His eyes widened. "Get your hands off of him!" he demanded. 

 

The shifted wolf and Lupa brought Sam over to the fire they had set up and dropped him. The wolf grabbed rope, bound Sam's wrists and then his ankles. "Oh, shut up," he snapped, clearly annoyed with the pair already, before moving to Lupa to help her with the shoulder wound.

 

“Good morning, grouchy,” Danny said cheerfully, legs crossed over Dean’s chest and hands pinning Dean’s legs down. He seemed completely at ease sitting on Dean’s hips, head cocked and a half smile on his lips. “We just brought you and your mate out here for a conversation. If things go right, we’ll all go together to get you two fixed up and turned loose. If not, well, we’ll have to drag you off to get you two off to get fixed.”

 

Sam moaned and tried to sit up, his head aching where he’d been kicked. However, he pushed aside the pain when he realized just how he’d ended up in pain. “What the fuck—Dean!” he yelped, eyes huge and filled with rage at the sight of some hot young guy sitting on Dean’s hips.

 

Dean tried to get away from Danny as best he could because this little prick was all over him and he didn't like it. His eyes remained on Sam, though. "Sam, are you okay?" he asked, still fighting with Danny but not getting anywhere.

 

“I’m fine, Dean; are you okay?” Sam asked, ignoring the trio. He only had eyes for Dean, looking him over to do a visual check to make sure that his mate was alright.

 

Lupa sat down as the naked wolf reached for a pair of jeans and pulled them on, and then kneeled in front of his sister. The bullet had gone right through and he quickly moved to clean the wound, ignoring the two bitchy wolves as they started to fight and yell. His tongue ran over the wound, front and back, cleaning it, encouraging the bleeding to stop. He made sure that Lupa was okay.

 

"You think you two could just be silent for a second?" she asked, knowing the answer but trying nonetheless. She really would love to not have to hurt them further. "Danny, get off of him; his mate will settle down more, I'm sure." she said. “Thanks, Seff.” 

 

Danny rolled his eyes in exasperation but climbed off of Dean readily enough. “I only did it because he was waking up and you two were still playing with princess over there.” He motioned to Sam with a jerk of his head and settled down a few feet away from Dean.

 

Lupa nodded. "I know, but they're mates. Just imagine if someone was all over Seff and you had no idea why." She moved to get up. "Seff, stay with Sam for now." When she turned she found that Seff had already moved. Her eyes traveled back and forth between one of the newer wolves to the other. 

 

"Okay I'm going to try and be as plain as I can and make this as painless as possible," Lupa began. "If you two behave, I will allow you close to one another, if you act up too badly I will kill one of you and make the other watch, are we clear?"

 

Dean and Sam both calmed a little once Danny moved, and when Seff made no attempt to touch Sam. Dean wanted to reach for Sam, but was unable to move close to him. He heard the woman, but his attention was focused on Sam. “I’m okay,” he assured his mate.

 

Sam rolled his shoulders, keeping his eyes on Dean as he answered the woman. “We’ll listen, but I’m not going to promise that we’ll believe you.”

 

“And we’re not going to promise that you’re going to like hearing this, but listening and hearing us out before deciding not to listen will make things easier.” Danny stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms comfortably.

 

Lupa sighed some and looked to Danny. "Will you show them first? I don't think Sam was able to take in Seff's true form fully before I kicked him." A visual aid was always helpful. 

 

Dean looked at the woman and pressed his lips together. Their scents, now that they were starting to work into his head, were normal to him, yet odd in the same way. The scents reminded him of the first time he had met Sam, how he had been drawn to Sam’s scent, but the draw was nowhere near as strong.

 

“Lupa, cover your eyes,” Danny teased as he stood up and started stripping off his clothes. In the four years since he’d joined the pack, Danny had lost any and all modesty he’d had. He dropped his shirt, jeans, socks and shoes in a pile first, and then quickly stepped out of his boxers before shifting down to his wolf form.

 

“Holy fucking shit,” Sam breathed, eyes widening. “Werewolves. But… you don’t look like the werewolves I’ve hunted before. You’re actual wolves, not just furry people.”

 

"Wait, werewolves are two legged bitches that eat people's hearts and…" Dean started but Seff cut him off. 

 

"Hunters? You're hunters?" Seff asked, pulling a cell out from his jeans and texting someone. Matsi had said to give them any information they got from the two. If they were hunting any type of anything then it wasn't random. 

 

“Used to be hunters,” Sam corrected. “The last thing we hunted was a werewolf and the damn thing ripped apart four kids, nine women, and two men, along with an assortment of pets.”

 

Danny shifted back into human form and started pulling his clothes back on. “Yeah, no. Those are bastardizations of what we are. Something’s wrong with them. Just like something is wrong with you two; you’re wolves, just like we are, but you haven’t shifted at all. I can’t smell it on you.”

 

"Most hunters can't tell us from a so called normal wolf so it isn't unbelievable for you to have never come across one of us before," Lupa explained to Sam. She was a little surprised they had taken down a wolf but let it go, maybe they weren’t completely insane, they were able to sit here and speak without growling at least. 

 

Lupa wrapped her arms around her chest. "Our kind mate with humans when the packs are too small, so one of your parents was a wolf as well. When you turned eighteen, you should have shifted, if not way before but something is stopping you. Our female alpha believes it might be a spell that has stopped the shift." 

 

"Wait, I don't understand; my mother was a hunter, there is no way in hell that she was a wolf or she would have offed herself. And she wouldn't have slept with a wolf, either!" Dean argued. 

 

"It’s possible that she never knew. Other than the wolf scent on our skins, there is no way for a human to tell we aren’t human," Seff countered. 

 

Lupa rolled her eyes at Dean, ignored him, and sat down again, nodding her head at Sam. "You’re wolves. I mean I would assume that you two have noticed or if it's been there all your lives, maybe you haven't. The way you hear shit, how you can pick up on the scent of blood, how you mate, the way you've marked one another. These are not human traits."

 

“I don’t even know who my parents are, so it’s possible, I guess.” Sam didn’t look too pleased by the news, though. “But, whoever put the spell or whatever on me to stop me from changing had to be doing it because they were trying to keep me from turning into a monster.”

 

Dean shifted a bit. "My mother knew what she was doing when it came to spells and witchcraft so I guess…"

 

“Oh, you mean the kind of monster that rips people apart for fun? Like you two do now?” Danny shot back, frowning at Sam. 

 

"Yeah and who the fuck are you?" Dean snapped, glaring at Danny. 

 

"Why do you two kill?" Lupa asked looking from Dean to Sam wondering if they could even answer the question. Lupa watched with intent eyes as the two spoke, now that they seemed willing to talk.

 

“We have to,” Sam bit out, glaring murder at Danny. “It’s like a buzz under our skin if we don’t, irritating until it’s all we can think about. And sometimes, it’s a little fun.”

 

“Freaks,” Danny muttered and sat up straighter, sighing. “You’re killing people because you need to hunt. You shouldn’t be hunting people, though. You should be hunting food and then, since you’re a mated pair, fuck for a few hours to celebrate.”

 

"Excuse you, furball, so again; who are the fuck you?" Dean growled, rolling his eyes. Seff's eyes fell on Lupa who nodded minutely. The more they talked to the pair the more it seemed likely that London and Masti were right; they were insane because they couldn't shift. 

 

“Easy, grouchy, I wasn’t insulting you,” Danny sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

 

"Listen you aren't at all right in what you do," Seff snapped at Dean and his eyes shifted to Sam. "You draw so much attention now and the way that you kill—I mean, I guess you were trying to hide the body because you know that cops and humans are catching on to you, right?" he asked Sam. 

 

Lupa pushed up a little. "Listen, you both know that this is the truth, you aren't human; you never were. You can't honestly be happy wanting to rip your own skin off half the time. I wouldn't even want to try and be anywhere near either of you on the night of a full moon. Our pack wants to help you but in order for that to happen you need to come home with us and you need to behave yourself because at this point it’s either you get better or…" she shook her head, "I would imagine you get the picture?"

 

“Yeah, we get supposedly better or you guys kill us.” Sam ground his teeth, muscles flexing in his jaw. He wanted a minute to talk to Dean, to decide together what to do, but these asshats wouldn’t leave them alone long enough, no way. He looked into Dean’s eyes, silently questioning, begging for input.

 

Dean looked at Sam and shrugged a little because he didn't trust them but at the same time he knew they weren't lying. He was itching again but mainly because he wanted to be close to Sam. Lupa got up and sighed, grabbing Sam by the arm and dragging him over to Dean so the two could sit together though she wasn't at all gentle about it. Once Sam was close to him Dean started to settle down further. He couldn't hold him but he could at least brush against Sam and easily breathe in his scent.

 

Danny got up, sick of sitting across from his mate and listening to Dean’s foul mouth, and plopped himself into Seff’s lap. He breathed a soft sound of happiness, eyes closed for a moment to enjoy the feel and scent of his mate wrapped around him. He spared a look at Dean and smirked. “I’d be a hypocrite if I was insulting you.”

 

Seff snuggled Danny affectionately, feeling more at ease whenever he was able to touch his mate. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Lupa who merely shrugged. "Listen, we've never dealt with wolves like either of you before, we aren't trying to threaten or hurt you but you need to decide what you want to do," Seff explained as he settled back to hold Danny. 

 

Seff nuzzled Danny and smiled when he felt his mate's lips on his ear. He decided that Sam and Dean were fine and no longer needed their attention. His arms wrapped around Danny and Seff kissed him, his lips dragging over Danny's face as he smiled, rubbing against him to mask the scents left on Danny by the other wolves. 

 

“Okay, fine, we’ll go with you,” Sam said, leaning against Dean as though to assure himself that Dean was really there. “But we’re going to fight back if you try to hurt us.” Danny tuned out of the conversation once he heard Sam agree and focused, instead, on nibbling and lapping at Seff’s neck and ear.

 

Lupa nodded her head. "Good. And we won't hurt you unless you act stupid so we should all be in agreement here." She reached for her cell phone to call home and left the two to talk on their own. 

 

Dean sighed and pushed against Sam as best he could, settling in much better now. Right now he couldn't care less what the others were doing or talking about; Sam was the only important part of this.

 

“Hey,” Sam whispered, leaning over to rub his nose along Dean’s jaw. He glanced at the pair of wolves across from them and his brows went up, caught up in staring at the picture the two made. Danny had turned around so that he was straddling Seff’s lap, hands tangled in thick, dark hair, hips rocking mildly. It was kind of erotic to look at.

 

"Hey," Dean said and smiled, moved up to kiss Sam's face as he leaned against him. He licked his lips before he turned his gaze to the other pair as well. It was… well, he wasn't really sure, but he had no trouble watching it as the two began to touch one another so tenderly. Seff pushed himself up and into Danny's body as he curled his arms tightly around his mate, capturing Danny's lips with his own.

 

Danny lapped and suckled at Seff’s mouth, hands sliding around to cup his face to hold him in place. He laughed breathlessly and cuddled Seff’s face against his throat. “We’ve got an audience,” he gasped, head tipped back as he fought to calm down again. Screwing around while they were out doing a job for the pack wasn’t something they usually did.

 

Seff laughed softly. "Well, at some point they'll fall asleep," he replied, smiling, and pulled back a little, trying to make sure his body behaved itself. Wolves just… didn't think about being private and such most of the time. At the same time, though Danny was right in his thinking; this wasn't really the time.

 

“Captive audience,” Sam drawled dryly and then returned his gaze to Dean, nudging him to turn his head for a soft kiss. “You gonna be okay with this, baby? I didn’t know what you’d want.”

 

Dean blinked and looked at Sam. "No, it's what I wanted. I mean, at this point unless we can get away from them we might as well go along for the ride." He shrugged as he kissed Sam, calm as he took in Sam's scent. "Besides," he shrugged, "no one else we ever met understood any of it, you know?"

 

“Yeah, I know; maybe we can get this all figured out and, you know, not rip each other apart when we have sex,” Sam said ruefully, stealing another tiny kiss from Dean.

 

“Rough sex is awesome,” Danny interjected over his shoulder and then buried his face in Seff’s neck; it turned out that he did have a little bit of modesty left, after all.

 

Dean kissed Sam back and nodded his head. "I like it rough sometimes, but soft would be nice to try again," he said. They had only been able to handle slow and gentle once, but when they had it had been amazing. 

 

Seff nodded his head, agreeing with Danny. "Yeah, most of all after a hunt," he said as he looked over the two. He found it cute when Danny got embarrassed but he wasn't at all modest, he never worried about it. "Again?" he asked curiously. "Meaning you two hurt one another every time?" Seff asked.

 

“Dude, every time?” Danny repeated as he pushed up and half-turned, gaping at the pair over his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, we really don’t have a choice. One time, one single time, we were able to slow down and take it slow, but other than that, it’s always rough,” Sam confirmed, a note of wistfulness in his voice.

 

Seff frowned. "I wondered why you both had so many cuts and bruises," he said after a moment, looking them over. His voice was almost sad for the two. "Our alpha thinks that once you're able to shift into your natural form that you might be able to be more… sane." He shrugged

 

Dean cuddled closer to Sam and licked his lips. "Yeah, we've tried to go slow but normally end up ripping into each other a few seconds in; can't really control it."

 

“Well, Matsi and London will get you guys fixed up,” Danny said, voice firm and sure. “Any information you can tell to help us help you will make things go faster and smoother.” It was really sad that they couldn’t just love each other without pain and roughness, Danny thought.

 

“How far away are they and when are we supposed to meet up with them?” Sam asked, ready to move the conversation away from his and Dean’s sex life. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but talking about it made his skin itch and since he was tied up at the moment, there wouldn’t be any sex for him and Dean tonight.

 

"Tomorrow, first thing," Lupa supplied, stuffing her cell phone into her pocket. "Matsi seems to think they may have some answers." She sat down by the others again. "And they aren't too far." From what Matsi had found out, it seemed that Dean and Sam moved miles and miles for each kill until they came so close to the pack lands. They hadn't entered the pack’s area, but seemed to have been circling it as if drawn to the area, yet knowing better then to kill within the bounds. 

 

Seff looked back at his sister over Danny's shoulder. "Really?" he asked, almost pleased by the fact. He was getting to know the new wolves, so he was much more interested in helping them than killing them. 

 

Dean wasn't so sure he believed Danny; not because he thought he'd lie but because he and Sam had been this way for so long. Could they really be fixed or was this a lost cause? He was itching as well and very much wanted to touch Sam but he doubted he'd get any more than able to simply sit next to his mate.

 

“Awesome; see guys?” Danny was all smiles as he turned back around and settled facing Sam and Dean in Seff’s lap. “I told you Matsi and London would be able to fix you up. We should get there sometime tomorrow night, maybe midday the day after if we stop to sleep. You guys can’t run with us, so it’ll take longer.”

 

“You do realize that we have a car and we’ve got things in our motel room that we’ve got to get before we can go, right?” Sam asked, looking pointedly at Lupa since she seemed to be in charge of this little group.

 

"The car will get us there faster," Lupa agreed, because they certainly weren't going to untie them to walk if she could help it. They never played human if they could help it but they all knew the basics, like what a car was and how to drive one. Danny had more of the knowledge of such things but they'd work that out in a bit when they had to. Honestly, she knew that so far this was going smoothly but she wanted very much to get the two of them with the pack as soon as possible.

 

Dean pressed his lips together. "No one but Sam and I drive my car, so I'm hoping that we'll be untied by then," he said in a matter of fact tone. 

 

Seff shook his head. "Yeah, well, in that case you'll be rather put off by reality." He leaned against Danny's back. 

 

Lupa nodded her head in agreement. "My brother is right and we'd like to get through this without having to knock you both out again. We'll all rest a bit here and then start back home."

 

“Dude, don’t worry about the car, okay? I grew up a human and I’ve driven since I was sixteen, so I can drive if it’ll put your minds at ease a little.” Danny caught Dean’s eyes, trying to convey that he was a nice guy and wouldn’t damage his car. “You’ve got to admit that we’d be crazy to let either of you drive. If something happened and you escaped, you’d be able to tell hunters where our pack is and we can’t have that.”

 

Sam shared a look with Dean, not entirely comfortable with the idea of letting any of them drive Dean’s car, but really uncomfortable with the idea of being touched and moved around while unconscious. “It’s your car, baby, so you get to say.”

 

Dean looked at Sam and frowned because honestly it didn't feel like feel like Sam or he really had much of choice here. He sighed before finally shrugged. "I will seriously rip your head off if that car is anything less than perfect when we get there," he growled at Danny. 

 

Lupa jumped in, knowing exactly where Seff was going to take that comment if given the chance. "The car really isn't what's important here, but nothing will happen to it with Danny behind the wheel," she promised. 

 

Seff sighed and shook his head. "The sooner we get there the better," he mumbled.

 

“Tomorrow,” Danny promised, nudging back against Seff’s groin. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours in a car, though we’ll have to leave the car at the storage unit when we get to town.”

 

“Great, now can we get some sleep? Preferable with our legs untied and our hands in front of us? It’s gonna suck to sleep sitting up or on our arms, otherwise,” Sam informed them, nose twitching at the spike of arousal he could smell from the mated pair across from him.

 

Seff smiled into Danny's back, knowing what he meant and biting gently into his skin. He opened his mouth to say something to his mate but stopped as Lupa pushed herself up. "I'll stay awake to watch them," Lupa told Seff, knowing where her brother's mind was going. "Danny, help me adjust Sam's bindings. Seff, just stick close to Dean for a second." She wasn't able to trust the newbies enough to have both her brothers and herself asleep at the same time. Dean moved a bit at the scent of arousal and looked to Lupa, cocking his head a bit to the side.

 

Danny sighed but got to his feet, adjusting himself in his jeans before he moved to crouch beside Sam. “Hold his arms and I’ll do the bindings,” he said, reaching back to loosen the knots on one side just enough to slip Sam’s hand through.

 

Somehow, Sam had taken a liking to the idea of going with these people and at least seeing if something could be done about fixing him and Dean. He had no intentions of trying to escape, though he would if Dean decided to run.

 

Seff moved closer to Dean and watched him, not very upset about the idea of undoing the bindings at the moment. The two seemed much calmer and even willing to listen to reason. He didn't trust them, but he was at a point where he was sure they would behave themselves. He watched Danny a second before his eyes settled on Dean.

 

Dean had no interest in trying to run. The calm that had taken him over when he and Sam had been able to take their time had been when they stayed in a state with another wolf, though obviously a very different breed these. He liked the comfort and he also loved the idea of being as content with Sam as Danny and Seff were with one another. 

 

Danny moved the rope around to the front and dragged Sam’s hands with him before swiftly tying him back up again. He felt kinda bad about having to keep them tied, but it would suck to have to chase them down, so he didn’t bother to mention it. “There you do, Sam. That should be good enough that you can still hold it when you piss.” He scooted down and deftly untied Sam’s ankles, tossing the rope aside before moving over to settle at Dean’s feet.

 

Lupe moved to Dean and undid his wrists with Seff watching carefully. She was glad that Sam and Dean both settled okay with what was happening. They had no reason to worry. Matsi seemed to think she had an answer and they would know for sure by tomorrow. Dean put his hands in front of him as she re-tied him and she looked to Danny to untie his ankles. "Okay, so everyone settle down and I will wake you at day break." She got up as Dean moved to cuddle next to Sam and Seff did the same with Danny.

 

Sam dragged Dean in, looped his arms around Dean’s neck, and pulled him into a proper kiss, sighing in relief at finally getting his hands on Dean again. “I kind of hope this works,” he whispered, softly enough that he figured that none of the others could hear him.

 

Danny grinned into Seff’s chest, willing to let Dean and Sam have their little secret conversation, even if Danny, Seff, and Lupa could hear them all very clearly. As long as they didn’t draw attention to the fact that they could hear, they might pick up something about Sam and Dean.

 

Dean sighed and buried his face in Sam's neck, nodding his head. "Yeah, me too," he agreed softly. "They're so comfortable in their own skin; I'd like that for us," he confessed, kissing Sam deeply. He felt better the moment Sam's arms were around him and he relaxed fully. 

 

Seff smiled and shook his head as he leaned his chin on Danny's head and relaxed himself. Lupa settled down by the fire ready to let everyone relax in their own private talks or heads, whatever was fitting for them at the moment.


	10. Chapter 10

Lupa shifted a bit as she got up. She’d fallen asleep here and there throughout the night. She trusted herself to pick up on anything that might show up and she oddly enough, trusted Sam and Dean. She wasn't inside their heads yet—and thank God for that, she might add—but they really had made no attempt to try and run. They even settled down a lot once they realized they were surrounded by other wolves. That was normal actually; most wolves were comfortable among their own kind. 

 

She moved to Seff and Danny first, the two cuddled up tightly around one another, easily keeping warm in their natural form. They both seemed most comfortable sleeping in their furs, a lot of wolves did. "Hey boys, wake up," she said, placing her hand gently on Danny's shoulder and shaking him. She looked over to Dean and Sam who were also cuddled up and asleep before moving to wake them as well. 

 

The night had been clear and comfortable and Seff slept almost as well as he would have back home. He growled a little, his sleeping mind knew it was far too early to be woken up and buried his face deeper in Danny's fur. Dean, at some point had crawled into Sam's lap and buried his face in his mate's neck falling and staying asleep. His hands were still tied but nonetheless he had a tight grip on Sam's shirt and had ended up comfortable enough.

 

“God,” Danny groaned, shifting as he woke into human form. He sat up and scratched his side, blinking blearily around the makeshift camp for a minute, fuzzy and adorably still half asleep. “Wha’s it?” he slurred, rubbing his eyes like a little boy, pouting about being awake.

 

Sam wasn’t in much better shape when Lupa woke him. He grumbled and clenched Dean closer, almost painfully so, before burying his face in Dean’s chest, grunting at Lupa to “Lemme sleep five more minutes” while he dragged Dean’s hips in closer to his own, as though trying to make Dean be still so that he wouldn’t have to wake up, not realizing that it wasn’t Dean waking him up quite yet.

 

Seff shifted and groaned as he blinked. Stretching he pushed himself up and looked over at Lupa. "God, when you said day break you weren't kidding, were you?" he mumbled looking over at the still rising sun and rubbed his eyes.

 

Dean clung tightly to Sam and didn't move at first. When Sam's grip tightened on him, though, he blinked sleepily, looking up to see Lupa's face. He snuggled closer to Sam, ignoring her for a second before suddenly realizing that it just wasn't him and Sam. "W-what…?" he started before realizing where they were and who she was. Lupa just sighed. 

 

"Not morning people, huh? You'll fit in great with the rest of the pack," Lupa commented before moving to put out the rest of the fire from the night before.

 

“Fuck, didn’t we just go to sleep an hour ago?” Sam grumbled, but grudgingly let Dean go and wriggled himself up into a sitting position. He needed food, a shower, and ten cups of coffee before he’d be ready for the day.

 

Danny got to his feet and stretched tall, back bowing as he went up on his toes, fingers extended. “Coffee? Food?” He frowned and looked down at Seff, still fuzzy from sleep and pouting. “Seff,” he sighed and dropped back down, crawling into Seff’s lap and cuddling up against him.

 

Dean moved out from Sam's arms and sat down on the ground next to him. "Is there any way you guys will untie us so we can change and shit back at the motel?" he asked Lupa, looking up at her. "Because, seriously, I'm not going to make it unless I get a shower and," he looked at Danny as he spoke and nodded, "coffee." 

 

Lupa frowned slightly and looked to her brothers. "What do you guys think?" she asked not wanting to make the choice alone on that question. 

 

Seff wrapped his arms around Danny as he sat down. He took a deep breath, taking in Danny's scent out of habit. "Yeah, we need to hunt too. I'm dying over here," he said as he looked from Lupa to Dean and then back, shrugging. "I don't know, they've been fine so far. It isn't like we can't chase them down if we have to."

 

“We could always go back to the motel room with them and take turns in the shower, then go as a group to get some diner food and coffee, and then pack up their stuff into the car and leave,” Danny suggested, rubbing his eyes again as his brain tried to come online beyond the basics of ‘Seff’ and ‘good’.

 

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Sam agreed, still frowning at the early wake-up call, but willing to play musical showers if it meant clean clothes, hot coffee and decent food in the near future.

 

Lupa agreed with the boys and moved to Sam, first untying his wrists and then Dean's. Dean rubbed his wrists once they were free and popped his shoulders, the movement much needed. "Sounds like a plan to me." She, Seff and Danny didn't have much; they really didn't need much to begin with. Still, a hot shower and food sounded so good right now she was willing to agree to almost anything. 

 

Seff licked his lips and turned to watch Lupa a moment. "Yeah, I think there's diner by their motel. I smelled food last night," he supplied with a shrug as he put his head down and rested it against Danny's shoulder. 

 

Sam eyed Danny and Seff for a long moment, a frown between his brows. Watching the two was starting to piss him off. He knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, but it made him jealous that Seff and Danny could be tender and attentive without it breaking down into vicious fucking. “Can you two please stop the cuddly shit? And put some damn clothes on. I don’t need to see your dicks,” he grumbled unhappily. He felt bad for taking out his bad mood on them, but they were at fault for causing the bad mood with their adoring soft touches and sweet attitude with each other.

 

“Wow, and I called him grumpy,” Danny replied, scrunching up his nose and pointing at Dean. “Chill, man. It’s early and we’ve only been mated a few weeks. We can’t really help it.”

 

Seff tensed a little and his eyes narrowed on Sam. "We don't bitch at you for pissing us off." God knew that Dean and Sam were gigantic assholes the night before. His arms remained around Danny and he rolled his eyes. Wolves were affectionate creatures and it wasn't Seff or Danny's fault that Dean and Sam had such a hard time. 

 

Dean looked back at Danny and sighed. "Well, you don't have to crawl all over each other twenty-four-seven," was his rejoinder, his thoughts in agreement with Sam’s. He would love to be able to touch Sam without cutting him up or getting bruised. They weren't normal, they got that, but they didn't need reminders all the time. 

 

"Oh, will you four chill out and get ready to go? The sooner we get this started, get home and get these two fixed the less time you'll all have to annoy each other." Lupa flapped her hands at them. "Move it."

 

Danny pouted but wriggled out of Seff’s arms and got to his feet. “Sorry,” he muttered and stalked over to the log he and Seff had left their clothes on. He tossed Seff’s to him and started yanking his own on. From what Sam and Dean had said the night before about their lovemaking habits, Danny could understand why they were jealous but that didn’t make it okay to snap at them. He and Seff weren’t flaunting anything they were just doing as they usually did.

 

Now Sam felt bad; he and Dean were the ones that were wrong for getting upset about Danny and Seff enjoying being close to each other and Danny had been the one to apologize. Still, bad as he felt for it, Sam couldn’t get his own apology out. Maybe after they were fixed, if they could be fixed, he’d apologize, but not yet. It still stung too much to see them cuddling and not be able to have that same thing with Dean without hurting him. Sam got to his feet and pulled Dean up with him, pressing a hard, biting kiss to his mouth in lieu of a good morning.

 

Seff sighed as Danny got up and pulled away from him. He didn't say anything and just kept his thoughts to himself. He understood why the others were so bitchy but seriously, this was Danny and Seff's nature, it was who there were. They were mates and had the right to touch and be with one another. They never thought to hide any of it because they never had to at home. He caught his clothes and dressed, pushing himself up to zip his jeans up and adjust his shirt. "Thanks." 

 

Dean settled a bit and looked away before following Sam to his feet. The kiss was welcomed but at the same time it only made him want what Seff, Danny and every other werewolf in the world had. The itch to be close was always there but he just settled into believing that was who they were and they couldn't have anything else. Now, though, he watched the other pair and after a second sighed. Lupa had everything ready and moved to head over to the boys’ motel. "Alright, let's head out." Lupa was not willing to stand around while they all whimpered and whined. She turned towards the motel and headed out.

 

Danny reached out to grab Seff’s hand out of habit and arrested the action, instead shoving his hands into his pockets and heading out. It would only be for a short time, he reminded himself, so he could be nice enough to not rub their noses in the fact that they couldn’t have such contact. “I hope you’ve got good water pressure,” he called over his shoulder. “Because I’ve been dying for a proper shower; baths are good and all, but it’ll be nice not to have to pump the water first.” Sam tucked his hand into Dean’s pocket and tugged, starting off after Lupa and ignoring Danny’s bid at conversation.

 

Dean followed along with Sam and looked back to Danny as he spoke but didn't say anything. He walked close to Sam as they moved and hoped like hell that all this would be worth it by the end of the day. Lupa walked through the woods; they weren't too far from the motel but a good enough walk on two legs rather than four. She sighed at the tension coming off of Sam and Dean but didn't say anything. She smiled though and rolled her eyes. 

 

"Who cares as long as the water's hot?" she called back. 

 

Seff walked closer to Danny but didn't touch him, feeling oddly denied by the fact that it felt as if he couldn't touch his mate. He licked his lips as they all walked, heading through the woods and he started to smell the scent of food again, he knew there had been a diner. "This is going to be a long day," he mumbled to Danny.

 

“Let’s just hope that Matsi and London can fix them fast, because I’m going to go insane if I can’t touch you whenever I want to. I held back for four years; you’re my mate and I’m tired of holding back.” Danny frowned down at the ground as they walked, shoulders hunched. He needed to go for a run before he ended up moping all day. “You ride shotgun so that I can at least hold your damn hand while I drive.”

 

“I’m showering with you when we get back to the motel,” Sam warned Dean. “They’ve been all over each other and you’ve been right beside me all night and I couldn’t even molest you properly so I’m gonna take advantage of you in the shower.”

 

Dean looked back and grinned as he brushed against Sam. "Okay. Besides, it has me itching that their scent is all over you; we need to correct that, too," he added, because he knew he smelled a lot like Danny from when he was sitting on him last night and he didn't fucking like it. He hated even more that he could smell them on Sam even if some were fainter than others. 

 

"We'll shower together," Seff offered, taking a page from Sam’s book, and gripped Danny's hand. "I'm willing to try and make it easier for them, but I have every right to reach out and touch you. It isn't our fault that they have problems." He sighed as they walked out of the woods, crossing the street and into the motel parking lot.

 

“Is Lupa going to be okay watching them while we’re busy mating in the shower, though,” Danny replied with a hot glance and a seductive smile bowing his lips. “Because if they’re going to spend their time in the shower fucking like rabbits, then there’s no way in hell we’re not taking advantage of the same thing.”

 

"Guess so," Seff shrugged at Danny as he brought his arms around his mate again, unable, or unwilling, to let him go just because of the others. At this rate, everyone needed to claim their respected mate or they were all going to rip one another's throats out. Wolves didn't mate while they hunted but now that they had their prey under control, mating was about the only thing on Seff's mind. 

 

“Fuck it,” Sam growled and flung an arm around Dean’s waist, hand landing hot and possessive on Dean’s hip, dragging him in close while still allowing both of them to walk normally. His fingers dug into Dean’s hip, the itch too much to deal with at the moment. “First shower!” he called out, announcing his claim as he clawed the room key out of his pocket and dragged Dean to the door.

 

Lupa watched as Sam pulled Dean through the door and her head went back and forth with all the sex talk going on before that. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head a bit. "Yeah, I'll be fine." She called over her shoulder as she headed into the room and sank down on the bed. There was way to much sex going on in everyone's heads this morning. 

 

Dean's hands ran over Sam's body everywhere he could reach, not caring who saw or heard the need he had for Sam. He had slept against him all night and he couldn't remember any given twenty-four hour period where they hadn't fucked and it was making him bitchy. The pain of Sam's nails against his skin was warm and welcoming and his body craved it.

 

The bathroom door slammed shut and Sam shoved Dean back against it, mouth devouring Dean’s hungrily. At the moment, he could care less about gentle and tender loving; he needed Dean in the most primal of ways. Right now. Hands tore at Dean’s clothes, jerking and shoving material out of the way until he could get his hands on Dean’s skin. “Fuck,” Sam growled, biting and licking his way into Dean’s mouth, thigh shoved between Dean’s thighs and rubbing ruthlessly at the bulge that was already tenting out the front of Dean’s jeans.

 

Dean's hands ran down Sam's body, pulling at his shirt to undress him, succeeding only in shredding it. He kneaded and shoved against Sam’s chest and his hands crawled over Sam’s back, needing the contact more than anything. "God, need you," he growled. "Now," he demanded, pushing his hard-on against Sam, begging. He kissed Sam, his tongue shoving into Sam's mouth, tasting him over his tongue, his nerves alive and aware.

 

One hand shoved against Dean’s chest, pinning him to the closed door. Sam drew back just enough to whip Dean’s shirt off over his head and wrench Dean’s jeans open. “Strip and get yourself ready while I start the shower.” It was the only concession Sam could make for Dean’s comfort at the moment, the only thing he could think of to distract himself from the frenetic need to pin Dean face-first against the wall and fuck him until he bled.

 

Dean kicked his jeans off and grabbed for whatever random bottle of slick he could find. He wasn't normally concerned with lube or being anything but very nicely fucked open, but he fell into it to give him something to do. As Sam started the shower he moved around, his hand slipping around Sam's waist and slicking him as he shoved his boxers down. He kicked off his jeans, boxers, and shoes.

 

No sooner than the shower come on than Sam had spun and grabbed Dean again, jerking him forward and pressing him against the wall beside the shower. “You’d better hope you got that pretty little ass of yours ready, because I can’t wait anymore.” That was all the warning Dean got; Sam kicked Dean’s feet apart and gripped his dick, guiding it roughly into Dean’s ass. “Fuck,” he growled, shoving forward desperately.

 

It itched and he needed Sam inside him. Dean moaned at the warning, the words soaking into his head, but he couldn't care less. He had to feel the burn of Sam's cock forcing open his muscles and he pushed back hard into the contact, crying out. He reached around and gripped Sam's ass, digging his nails into him and drawing small beads of blood. The burn felt amazing and mixed with pleasure until they melted together and he tipped his hips back, forcing his muscles to open up, inviting more.

 

One hand gripped Dean’s hip, the other pressed down in the small of his back, urging Dean’s spine to arch, to raise that pretty ass a little bit so that Sam could fuck him nice and proper. Sam drew back until only the head remained and then slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt. “Goddamn it; can’t go so long without you again,” he whispered, leaning over Dean’s arched spine to bite and suckle at Dean’s earlobe, hips ramming in at a brutal pace.

 

Dean arched up and moved as far back as he could, trying to keep Sam inside him. His head fell back as soon as Sam thrust into him again and he almost howled at the pleasure spreading through him. His dick twitched and begged for his attention. He reached down and gripped it tightly, not wanting to risk coming too quickly because this had to last. "God, S-Sam!" he gasped. He pushed back into Sam's mouth, the rough thrusts. "N-needed you in me all night; can't stand it," he confessed.

 

“Can’t fuck you hard enough; can’t fuck you deep enough. God, Dean,” Sam growled against Dean’s ear, his hands moving in tandem; one slid around Dean’s chest, the other lower around those slim hips, and Sam used his grip on Dean to fuck into him hard and fast, losing himself in the tight heat of Dean’s body, the sounds—fuck so hot—that poured from Dean’s lips.

 

It was an insane feeling to never get enough. No matter how often or how hard Sam and Dean fucked, Dean always had an itch like he wasn't at all satisfied. All he could think, feel and smell was Sam and he needed him more than he needed air or food to live. "Sam, just fuck me, make me feel so fucking good. Need you, baby, all the time; never enough," he confessed through broken and gasped breaths as he began jerking his dick in time with Sam's thrusts.

 

The longer it went on, the more Dean made those irresistible sounds, the less control over himself Sam had. His thrusts grew erratic and sloppy, grinding harshly over Dean’s prostate on every other pass, and he set his teeth to keep from tearing out Dean’s throat accidentally. Sam nudged his knees between Dean’s legs, shoved them wide, and scooted in closer, knees bent to give him more leverage, to assure that his mate came too, because Sam was careening towards that edge at breakneck speed and couldn’t hold himself back.

 

As Sam picked up speed, Dean's voice became hoarse as if he had been screaming. He had gone insane half the night with the itch and need to fuck and be fucked by his mate and now that it was happening his body wasn't able to wait or hold out. He clawed at the wall he was pressed against, trying to grab onto something, anything, but there was nothing there. He reached back, gripping a fist full of Sam's skin, nails digging hard as he came with an insane cry, come hitting the wall in waves, covering his hand and belly with sticky release.

 

“God, yeah,” Sam growled, pistoning his hips into the rhythmic clench of Dean’s ass, losing his rhythm, thrusts becoming frantic and erratic. “Dean,” he gasped, more breath than sound, and stiffened, lodging himself deep into Dean’s ass, erupting in a burst of ecstasy. He rode out the aftershocks, hips jerking as he emptied himself into Dean’s body, and then collapsed against his mate’s back, panting for breath.

 

When Sam fell against him, Dean pressed against the cool tiles of the shower wall and sighed, content for the moment. "Let's never go that long without fucking again," he suggested in a deep and rough voice but made no attempt to move, catching his breath slowly.

 

“Agreed,” Sam huffed, sliding his mouth over Dean’s shoulder in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. How Dean could even think after coming his brain out through his dick? Sam wasn’t quite so capable, still buried in Dean’s ass and too boneless with relief to move just yet. He was actually surprised, in a distant way, that he hadn’t fallen on his ass yet.

 

Dean let his forehead lean against the shower wall, and as his body relaxed, he smiled slightly. He leaned back into the kiss, tired and spent. He just stayed there a moment, enjoying it as the itch drained away.

 

They rested against each other for awhile, taking a few minutes to catch their breath. Sam pulled out slowly, hissing as the tight clutch of Dean’s body sucked at his sensitive cock. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s shoulder and grabbed the soap, making short work of cleaning Dean’s back and ass. As much as he’d have liked to leave Dean dripping all day long, they’d be in the company of wolves with strong senses, and there was no way he’d allow them to smell it.

 

Dean let his head drop as Sam's hands moved over his body. It felt really good; better than he remembered gentle touches feeling. He licked his lips and pushed back into the touches. Normally Sam and he took care of each other but he didn't normally take such a notice to it, not like this anyway. He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, letting the water run over him as Sam finished.

 

Sam soaped and rinsed Dean’s hair and then turned him around, washing his front with quick, efficient hands. Usually, he might entice Dean to rise to the occasion again and then suck his brain out through his dick, but there were people waiting for them, for the use of the shower, so Sam kept his hands to himself, metaphorically speaking.

 

When he was done with Dean, Sam started washing himself using the same quick, efficient strokes to clean himself up. “Hey, did you remember to bring clothes in or are we going to have to go out there in towels?” he asked, swapping with Dean to stand under the spray and rinse off even as he reached for the shampoo.

 

"Towels it is," Dean answered as he ran a hand through his hair, watching Sam. "Unless we just pull our jeans on and change out there?" He pulled back the curtain and got out the shower. He knew that the others were waiting for them and he guessed ignoring them further wasn't the best idea. He grabbed a towel and started to dry himself off as Sam finished, and grabbed a towel for him as well.

 

“Nah, I really don’t care whether they see me naked or not. That Danny guy didn’t seem fazed by it when he went from skin to fur and back again. I don’t think they see nudity like we do,” Sam theorized as he shut off the water and stepped out, scrubbing himself down with the towel.

 

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I get that feeling. I think they see a lot of shit differently than we do," he replied as he finished drying himself. He reached for his forgotten clothes and then the bathroom door, not much fazed by anything at the moment. But, when he looked up, he saw three pairs of eyes staring at him as if he had three heads. "What?" he asked, rolling his eyes and looking to find his bag and a pair of jeans. 

 

Lupa's eyes had been pinned to the bathroom door from the moment the screams of pain and pleasure echoed through the room. She knew that rough sex was a part of mating, but more for just after a hunt or when one was trying to pin the other. Those two… Christ, she was fairly sure even London didn't sound like that.

 

“I’m usually not one to comment on other people’s sex lives, but fuck; you two weren’t kidding when you said rough was all you could handle.” Danny looked away, but the bright blush on his face spoke volumes.

 

“Well, if you don’t usually comment, then don’t comment,” Sam grumbled as he stepped out of the bathroom. He hadn’t even bothered with the towel around his hips, just strode over to his bag naked and started pawing through it for clean clothes.

 

Shoving his old clothes into his bag, Dean found a pair of his old blue jeans and a pair of boxers and yanked them on. He rolled his eyes at the comments because the last thing he wanted was commentary. Dean half growled but didn't say anything. 

 

Seff's eyes narrowed on Sam. "Yeah, well, get used to it; the pack isn't going to care that you’re PMSing. They don't like something or they don't get something, they're going to open their mouths," he said honestly. He wondered how these two would really fit into the pack. "Come on, we're up." He nodded at Danny, heading for the bathroom. Lupa just sighed and stayed out of it.

 

Danny happily followed his mate into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with Sam’s glare following them. “See if he likes it when I comment on his fucking,” Sam grumbled and bent to tug on his jeans, foregoing his boxers due to the lack of a clean pair.

 

Dean sighed and zipped his bag up before moving to the bed and sitting down running a hand through his still damp hair. Well, this was going to be a fun car ride, he could see it now. He sighed and shook his head. 

 

After a while, Dean looked up and towards the door. He could hear them, he could smell them and obviously it was a lot different than how Sam and he sounded. He pressed his lips together and stood it for as long as he could. He was about ready to hit something when he stood up and headed towards the door. "Chill out; I'm just putting my bag in the car," he told Lupa when she got up. He needed to get away from the happy couple, hearing them was about as bad as seeing them.

 

The door closed behind Dean and Sam sighed, frustrated. He braced his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He was just as pissed off as Dean was, hurt that they couldn’t have the same kind of slow, loving sex that the pair in the bathroom was taking advantage of, but he wasn’t going to run away. “Please tell me that they’re not going to be an hour at it?” he asked quietly, gritting his teeth against the need to go find Dean and comfort him. There wouldn’t be any comfort; he’d put his hands on Dean and end up all over him again, hurting instead of loving like he needed to.

 

Lupa watched Dean go, oddly not as uncomfortable as one might think about letting him out of her sight. She really didn't think either one of them was going to go anywhere. She looked back at Sam and shrugged. "We recover faster but we last just as long," she commented as she leaned against the wall and looked him over. He looked sad and hurt and it bothered her because she couldn't imagine what it was like for them. They loved each other but they could never show it. Wolves lived and died for affection and Sam and Dean couldn't even hold each other without ripping each other apart. "Don't look so miserable, it will get better once Matsi is able to have a look at the two of you. Might not mean anything to you but I've never seen her fail once."

 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Sam replied wryly, lifting his head to look at her. “Dean and I, we don’t get breaks like this where things go our way. You’ll have to forgive me for being a little skeptical.”

 

Lupa nodded her head. "Yeah, I know. Or, rather, I have an idea. Matsi has been tracking every file or piece of information on you guys as far back as when you were kids. It's been shitty but you are already one ahead of a lot of other wolves; you found each other and fairly young, too. That's pretty rare." Mates were so very important to a wolf. "Still, I know the people assigned to try and help you would never harm you. I think it will work out."

 

“I hope so,” Sam said and got to his feet. He couldn’t sit there and listen for another minute. It just made him ache for Dean more, and another round of fucking would just leave them both sore on however long a drive this was going to be.

 

Lupa looked at Sam for a moment as he got up. She could hear Dean not too far away, trying to get away from her brothers. Not that she could blame either of them, really. She pushed off the wall and headed for the door. "Come on, let's find your mate. I'm tired of hearing it, too," she joked, stepping out.


	11. Chapter 11

Twenty-four hour guard had been assigned to Sam and Dean the moment they’d stepped foot in London’s territory. It was the only way London had been able to agree to allow them anywhere near the pack. They were dangerous men and there were children in the pack that needed to be protected. Danny, Seff, Lupa, and a pair of scouts had been assigned to them.

 

Matsi paced back and forth before her cabin, waiting for London to bring Sam and Dean to her so that she could read the spell worked into them, the spell that kept them cut off from their true nature and caused them to be violent animals.

 

Dean was twitchy and he didn't like being here. Being around so many wolves was new to him, and he felt even worse being around the entire pack than he had been just with the trio that had come to get them. London watched the two with careful and untrusting eyes. It was obvious that the pair weren't much of a danger to the pack as a whole; they had realized that when Seff, Danny and Lupa had such little trouble trapping them to begin with. Still, stupid mistakes were not things he made so more protection was best. The pair was odd, he could see it in their movements, hear it in their tones. They were covered with bites and bruises, and he was sure he smelled the blood of one on the other. He dismissed it for the time being: it was odd in its own right, but not yet important. 

 

He walked with the two, scouts not far away from the small group, just in case, as he approached his cabin and his own mate. Matsi had been running about trying to work out something to help the two but only time would tell. They were wolves, any of their kind could tell that, but this wasn't something he had ever seen before. Though they were bitter and rather dismissive, they had generally behaved themselves which surprised him.

 

Sam kept his eyes scanning their surroundings, watching for danger. He didn’t feel terribly uneasy, but Dean’s uneasiness was getting to him, as well as the general sense of distrust from every member of the pack, save for Danny, Lupa, and, to a lesser extent, Seff. 

 

A gasp grabbed Sam’s attention and he snapped his eyes up, fastening them on a startlingly gorgeous woman with snaky black hair that fell to her knees in heavy waves. “What?” he asked, tensed and ready for attack.

 

“You, I—I’ve never seen…. Gods, London!” Matsi yanked her eyes from Sam and Dean and focused on her mate. “They’re both marked! Fuck!” She turned and hurried into the cabin, rummaging for something frantically. 

 

London looked at Matsi as she nearly came apart. He raised an eyebrow. There was so much about these two that he wasn't sure what to make of them. It was as if they were a breed all their own and he wasn't too worried about how they mated. It wasn't natural in any sense of the word. This was the first time he didn't know what to make of a young wolf and much more disturbing, they had two of them on their hands. 

 

Dean's stance was tense and annoyed. He cocked his head to the side and watched the woman, looking at Sam from the corner of his eye. "What is she going on about?" he asked confused; not that Sam would know any better. He looked to London, expecting an answer. 

 

The alpha shook his head. "Just give her a minute."

 

Sam sighed and resumed checking around. He trusted Dean to watch the wolves with them, so it was his job to watch and make sure that none slid up out of the woods to harm them. Not that he suspected them to; they wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to bring them to the camp if they’d only intended to kill them.

 

When Matsi came back out of the cabin several minutes later, she was carrying a thick, old book. She plopped down on the steps and started thumbing her way through it rapidly. “It’s in here. I know it’s in here,” she muttered, flipping pages back and forth as she searched.

 

Several minutes passed in which Matsi mumbled under her breath, skimming pages and flipping again and again until she finally stopped and got to her feet. “There is mention of two who are one in my grandfather’s journal,” she said, moving over to stand before Dean and Sam. They dwarfed her by nearly a foot, making her tip her head back to address them. “It’s really simple and I never understood what it meant, but I remembered reading it when I saw you two. ‘When two are one and bound by three, the lone wolf calls out reveille. Mate and share torturer’s glee, then one must be two restore to harmony.’ I’m still not sure what it means, but it almost fits the two of you to a T.”

 

Dean's eyes moved around, his ears remained alert and so did his attention. As Matsi came back his attention shifted to her a moment as she sat downg. He doubted that anyone would hurt them either, but trusting and being stupid were never mistakes that Dean made. His eyes shifted back to her, and he looked down slightly as she spoke trying to met her somewhat eye level. He blinked and looked at her as if she were speaking another language to him, and she very well may have been because he wasn't getting it. "That some kind of prophecy?" he asked after a minute or two. He knew enough about lore to know one when he heard it, even if he had no idea what it meant. 

 

London shook his head not really understanding it either. "Is there more talk of something like this, or is it just the one passage?" he asked his mate. Oddly enough, none of them had ever dealt with this type of thing before; those from generations had some kind of an indication.

 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Sam asked, brows drawn together in confusion and head tipped to the side in a purely canine expression of curiosity.

 

“I don’t know, son. But, as far as I can tell, it’s just the one passage, but my mother has more of my grandfather’s texts and I’m sure she can help me find out once I’ve set these boys to rights.” Matsi sighed and handed the book over to London, looking up into Dean’s face carefully. 

 

London took a step back and reached for the book, allowing Masti space to do her work. These boys were in good hands with her taking care of them. He had no doubt the boys would be fine, though what they did with it…. That they couldn't yet see. He pressed his lips together and looked as the group.

 

Matsi stared at Dean’s face for a long time, the intensity of her searching gaze a bit disturbing. “You were bound by a frightened and lonely mother,” she said softly and moved on to stand before Sam. She had to tip her head back even farther to see his eyes, but took the same long time to examine him as she had Dean. “And you, oh sweetling, a crazed mother and a despairing father bound you for your safety.”

 

Dean straightened up and looked back into Matsi’s eyes as if he shouldn't look away. When she spoke of his mother, though, he opened his mouth only to close it again. The others said that it was possible it was his mother, as it had seemed. She knew what he was but hadn’t killed him. He felt oddly touched by it though she had screwed him royally in the head with it. He had to assume from the start his dad was the wolf of the family, maybe his mom did know a little more.

 

Sam, on the other hand, glared down at the tiny little woman. “For my safety? I can’t touch my goddamn mate without wanting to rip him apart; we can’t deal with groups of people for more than a day without needing to kill someone—not want, need. How is that for my safety, huh? I’m more dangerous like this!”

 

“Your mother went insane because of what she was. I don’t know why, but it does happen from time to time. Some wolves become Omega and fall into a state of insanity that can’t be cured. Your parents worked this spell over you in hopes that you wouldn’t end up like her.” Matsi lifted a hand as though to touch Sam’s arm, but arrested her action and stepped back, leaning against London’s chest. “I can reverse it.”

 

Dean's eyes became sharp as Masti moved to touch Sam but he relaxed she backed off. Dean had always assumed he was just partly insane. He hadn't ever believed that there was some reason behind it, that he was some kind of a wolf or that there was even a breed of werewolves out there that were different from the monsters that his mother used to hunt. "What will happen to us if you do reverse it? I mean, I know you people want us to be like the rest of you but… is that going to happen or are we still going to be crazy but in two different forms?"

 

London shook his head sadly. Of course, parents trying to do what was best for their children. "What was done to both of you was a mistake." He looked at Sam a moment and then Dean. "I fully believe that both your parents were trying to protect you, but they just didn't know what the outcome would be in their choices. You grew up in a hunting world; how long to do you think you would have lived had your mother not shielded you?" 

 

“Five minutes,” Sam snorted, folding his arms over his chest. “Hunters are the ‘kill first, no questions asked’ sort of people; even if neither of us hurt a soul, we’d have been killed the moment we turned.”

 

“Precisely,” Matsi said softly, smiling up at Sam and then over at Dean. “Your parents chose the wrong way to protect you, but they did protect you as best they could. None of them could’ve known that there were packs out there that would’ve offered help.”

 

London looked back to Dean. "You may look like humans but you are wolves, you were born to be wolves," he explained in answer to Dean's questions. "We think that once you are able to be what nature intended you to be, that you'll both settle down a bit." Dean nodded his head, not sure if he believed the man or not. They were right; hunters would have killed them and right then he didn't care much about how people fucked up in the past, what was done was done.

 

Matsi turned and grabbed London’s arm, pulling it against her body. She rested her forehead on his bicep and sighed. “I can’t work the spell until the full moon. The problem with that is that it leaves us with four days to prepare and the spell has to be worked while we’re all in human form, so the timing must be precise.”

 

Sam reached for Dean and dragged him in, clutching tightly to his mate. “Do it, get the spell ready. We’ll help as much as we can. I need to try this, we need to try this.”

 

Dean wrapped his arm tightly around Sam's waist, his fingers buried in his mate's shirt. "Yeah, we do. Is there anything we can do?" He looked to Matsi; any amount of peace was worth it, he'd give anything to be able to hold Sam the same way the pairs held one another.

 

London sighed and put his arm around his mate bringing her into him carefully. He nodded, he understood; the pack would have to work together, whatever they needed. They may not have known the pair but regardless of that fact, they were, in one way or another, they were family. "What do we need to get ready for this?" he asked her. 

 

Matsi lowered her head, a sad look sliding over her face. “For the rite to work properly, the two of you must purify yourselves. No meat, no fighting, and any sex that takes place must be done with all care or it shouldn’t be done at all. I know you two struggle with the clawing of your nature when you mate, but I can give you a tea to drink that will ease the urge to hurt and maim.” She lifted her head, a wry smile bowing her full lips. “Wolfsbane will put your nature to sleep; it will give you both peace while I ready the rite.”

 

“So, it’ll make us more human?” Sam asked, and chuckled at Matsi’s nod. “Fine, we’ll do it.”

 

London loved the idea of temporarily fixing the pair until the rite. At least they would be less trouble if they weren't ready to kill everything breathing that happened to be within five miles of them. "Exactly, maybe we should begin there?" he asked Masti. They were both iffy about the two even if they understood them better. It actually helped that both seemed unhappy in their current states, it meant that they were willing to change it. 

 

Dean laughed softly. "Yeah, we'll do whatever you need us to do." Right now this was about the best shot they ever had; he was willing to play it out as long as Sam was.

 

“All right. Go bunk down with Seff and Danny for the night. I’ll bring the tea when it’s finished steeping.” Matsi smiled at the pair and then up at her mate, glad for the chance to help them, and that they wished to be helped.

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Sam said politely, feeling hopeful, truly hopeful, for the first time since he could remember.


	12. Chapter 12

It was quiet inside Matsi’s house: London had left to head up a hunt, Seff and Danny had gone back to their own cottage, and Lupa sat outside the door, keeping watch while the alpha was away. Sam and Dean sat on the couch in Matsi’s living room while she mixed and murmured over a bowl of black fluid which smelled strongly of mint and heather.

 

Dean shifted a little, his side pressed lightly into Sam. The two had never been apart since arriving, but he just felt more comfortable when he was touching Sam. They hadn't been close to most of the other wolves, but it was still a little much to be around so many all of a sudden. He sighed a little and sat back more, looking back at Sam. "Hope this works almost as much as the spell of hers," he said whole heartedly, the idea of not hurting Sam when he touched him sent sparks through Dean. At the rate they were going, with the violence getting worse sometimes, no doubt they would kill each other in time.

 

“It’ll work, Dean,” Sam replied softly, not because he was trying to keep their conversation from their hostess, but because Dean usually responded better to quiet comfort. “Just try to relax. Maybe you can think of all of the things we’re going to do once we’re sure we’re not going to rip each other apart, huh?”

 

Dean smirked, that was one of things he’d already been thinking of. "Can't wait for that," he said, forcing his body to relax. One time of nice and sweet wasn't enough, rough was great but he wanted the choice of it. He had wanted to be able to love his mate like he loved him rather than like he hated him. "Of all the things I ever considered might be wrong with us, this was seriously at the bottom of my list." 

 

“I knew we had a bond, because I’d been watching you in my dreams for years, I just never saw your face until you came into the Roadhouse. I sort of figured it was some kind of spell or something kookie, but nothing like this.” Sam slid an arm over Dean’s shoulders and had to bite back the need to bite and claw at his mate’s clothes, take him rough and brutally on the floor despite their audience. God, he hoped that this magic stuff worked. He hated not being able to just love Dean the way he deserved to be loved.

 

Dean nodded his head; he’d felt Sam for years but never understood it. Really, the two of them had been going through this crap since Dean turned eighteen. It was good that they now had answers but it was still hard to believe. "Wolves," he mumbled. "I mean, magic I could handle but wolves." A tense feeling ran through Dean as Sam touched him and he saw that look faintly in his mate’s eyes. He wondered what it would be like, enjoying each other rather than obeying an overwhelming clawing need.

 

“Oh, yeah, that was a new one on me, too. These guys are different from the werewolves I’d hunted when I was younger, but even back then they seemed familiar. I just thought it was because I wanted a dog.” Sam’s smile was strained with the effort it took to just touch and not ravage and take. “But, now that we know about the wolves, a lot of things make more sense. Like, that night we managed to be calm and do things easy; I get some of that sense here, but it’s like it’s muted or something.”

 

"Yeah, my mom always let werewolf hunts go to other hunters. I guess she never wanted me near them, just in case." Dean’s fingers twitched a little. Looking back, he could see just how unlike the humans they were often surrounded by they were. They were different. He better understood his need to fuck that girl a few states back, too; she had smelled a lot like Lupa did, but she had been in heat. He and Sam were always marking one another with scent and blood; wolves claimed what belonged to them. "Want that again," he said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes roughly.

 

“And you two shall have it,” Matsi broke in. She stood from the table and poured the black concoction into two cups and walked them over to the boys. “Drink it down and sit awhile. When your scent changes, I’ll send you two on to bed.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Sam said, sliding his arm off of Dean’s shoulders to take the glass. He stared down into the murky blackness and looked at Dean to make sure that he was ready to do this.

 

"Thank you, ma'am," Dean echoed as he took his cup and his eyes traveled back to Sam. He smiled, soft and encouraging. He nodded his head and licked his lips. He looked down at the drink a second before bringing it to his lips.

 

Sam took a deep breath and tipped the glass to his lips, gulping down the awful, bitter brew as quickly as he could just to get it over with. He handed the glass back to Matsi, a look of disgust on his face, which she smirked at, finding it amusing.

 

Dean did his best not to choke on the crap and swallowed it as quickly as he could. "Oh God," he groaned in disgust, handing the cup back. He swallowed a few more times, trying to get the taste out of his mouth as he settled back in his seat again.

 

“Give it about twenty minutes. Sorry, but you cannot eat or drink anything for the rest of the night. It needs time to filter into your blood overnight so that it can keep your instincts under control. You’ll be able to eat in the morning, but tonight and tomorrow night you’ll have to fast.” Matsi took the glasses to the bathroom and rinsed them in the sink.

 

“Wish we’d known that before. We haven’t eaten yet.” Sam scrubbed his hand over his mouth, dearly wishing he could have something to wash the taste out of his mouth. “Oh, does the no-consumption thing include… uh, sperm?” he asked, a blush lighting his face up bright red.

 

Dean frowned deeply as his stomach complained at the instructions. The taste it left behind was sickening. "How long will it last?" he asked, looking back at her. He seriously hoped that they wouldn't have to drink it again, ever. He tried not to smile at Sam's question.

 

“No, you can give your mate a blowjob; it won’t matter since it’s a bodily fluid. It will only last about twenty-four hours, so you’ll need to take it every night until the ritual.” Matsi patted Sam’s head, smiled at Dean, and then retreated to her bedroom. She left the door open but lay down on her bed, snuggling up with a blanket to give them a bit of privacy.

 

“I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life, and that includes when Mom walked in on me getting fucked when I was fourteen.” Sam scrubbed his hands through his hair and sank back against the couch, eyes closed and impatient for the magic potion, or whatever, to hurry up and take effect.

 

Dean smiled back at Matsi. And even though he was blushing slightly, he really couldn't keep the smile off of his face after getting a good look at Sam. She left the room and Dean couldn't help but laugh. The wolves didn't seem to have any problem with sex and affection in front of each other. In fact, he'd seen a few just walking around naked. "Well, it was an honest question." He let his head fall back. Twenty minutes seemed like a really long time, and his leg bounced a little trying to ease him.

 

Sam just snorted and tried to relax. He let his mind drift away, circling predominantly around all of the things he wanted to do with Dean the moment the potion took effect. Strangely enough, only some of it was sexual. Most of what Sam wanted involved just touching, and a lot of making out.

 

The touch of a cool hand on his forehead snapped Sam out of his thoughts and he jerked upright to see Matsi standing over him. At some point Dean had shifted closer to Sam and pressed against him lightly. Dean opened his eyes to see Matsi, barely hearing her over his shock. “It’s been half an hour. I think you boys are safe. There’s a cabin down to the end of the row on the right that we’ve made empty for you two. Go on now.”

 

Sam was on his feet before she’d even finished talking. He grabbed Dean by the hand and eagerly pulled him to his feet. “Come on,” he urged, marveling at the utter lack of aggressive drive that usually burned under his skin when he touched Dean.

 

Dean got up to follow along with Sam, not at all ready to rip Sam's arm off for grabbing him and taken by surprise at the softness of Sam's touch. He wanted to talk Matsi but was out the door before the thought fully formed. There were other things, too. Dean couldn't smell the other wolves and he didn't have a crawling itch under his skin. It was like the one night they had made love rather than almost killed each other, and he was just about lost in just how good it felt. Once outside, he walked with Sam towards the cabin Masti had indicated and found himself excited rather than uneasy. He loved it.

 

“Dean,” Sam murmured softly, fingers smoothing gently over the curve of Dean’s shoulder, down the length of his arm, where they twined with his mate’s. “God, it’s unreal. I-I feel normal, like I did before, I mean. I just want to put my hands and lips all over you, just to touch and taste like I’ve been dying to do.”

 

Dean wanted to taste every inch of Sam's skin, wanted to just feel and touch and enjoy him. He smiled at the touches and looked to Sam as they came to the front of cabin. "I know. I haven't ever felt this before. I mean, I want to do things to you that I've wanted all along, you know?" His arms came up around Sam's waist.

 

Sam cupped Dean’s face between his hands, thumbs stroking oh-so-gently over Dean’s high cheekbones. “Then let’s go inside and do them. We’ll do everything, okay?” he murmured and bent his head, pressing a sweet kiss into Dean’s lips.

 

"God, yes," he agreed. Dean nodded and took Sam's hand as they kissed before pulling him towards the door and then inside. "You have dimples," he said as they parted. He hadn't ever noticed before for some reason—maybe because Sam never smiled like that before. The cabin was set up much like Danny and Seff's, just without any of the personal touches. He made a beeline for the bedroom with a smile on his face.

 

Sam’s soft laughter followed Dean, and a moment later the quiet tread of his footsteps did the same. “Wait.” He gripped Dean’s shoulders and stopped him at the foot of the bed, his chest to Dean’s back. “Let me touch you for a minute, please?” he asked, rubbing his nose in the soft hair at the base of Dean’s neck.

 

Dean smirked and closed his eyes. "Only if you let me do what I want, too," he replied softly as he pressed back into Sam's chest. He arched his neck to give Sam any access he could want and reached back to rub down Sam's back and the curve of his ass.

 

“Deal,” Sam whispered into the back of Dean’s neck and then started pressing soft, lingering kisses down and around to the side, and then upward to the sensitive hollow behind Dean’s ear. It was surreal how easy it was to taste and kiss the parts of Dean that he wanted to. Large hands slid around to stroke Dean’s belly while Sam’s lips and tongue teased the sensitive skin of his neck and ear. “God, I could worship you all night long.”

 

Dean relaxed against his mate and a small sigh escaped his lips. His body melted into Sam's as if it belonged there. "God, I never thought it could feel this good," he confessed. Though they hadn't done anything yet, in a lot of ways it was so much more than they ever had. He turned around to face Sam and nuzzled against his face, wanting to kiss him. His pressed his lips against Sam's, his hands running down either of Sam's sides. "I love you so much, Sam, and now I finally get to show you."

 

“Love you, Dean,” Sam murmured and caught Dean’s lips again, deepening the kiss, pulling Dean against him. He allowed his hands to roam over his mate’s back, mapping out territory that he hadn’t had time to savor before. He had the time now and had every intention of learning every single inch of Dean’s body, again and again, until he could recognize a certain part of Dean’s skin even if he were blind.

 

Dean pushed his tongue inside Sam's mouth and explored as he pulled him a little closer. When they broke the kiss, he moved his lips down and kissed along Sam's throat and neck, sucking gently. He didn't find a need to claw and bite. "I really want to do something," he said softly. "Will you let me even if you think it's stupid?" he asked, taking Sam's hand again and pulling him towards the bed.

 

“I’m sure nothing you want to do will be stupid.” Sam followed willingly enough. He didn’t want to be parted from Dean for any length of time. To put a finer point on it: Dean might even have company in the bathroom. Sam plucked at Dean’s clothes, wanting skin to touch, to lick and taste and suck and kiss.

 

Dean chuckled softly and pulled Sam shirt up and over his head before he switched places with him, giving him a soft push to sit on the bed. "Lay on your stomach for me, baby," he said as he ran his hand over Sam's head and through his hair.

 

Obediently, Sam scooted backward on the bed and rolled onto his stomach, peering over his shoulder at Dean curiously. “Lose your shirt, too,” he said, and folded his arms under his head, relaxed and trusting.

 

Rolling his eyes playfully, Dean pulled his shirt off and let it drop to the floor as he got up on the bed to join Sam. It was amazing not to see Sam cringe or to feel tense and sick at the marks he usually left behind. He put a leg on either side of his mate and sat back on the tops of Sam's thighs so he could have full access to his back. 

 

Running his hand down Sam's spine, Dean looked up and his eyes locked with Sam’s. "Relax, baby," he said softly as he moved up and his fingers worked gently over the curves of Sam's neck, massaging it. His fingers ran over the tanned, soft skin. No marks and no blood trail were left behind; it was beyond words. He wanted to map out Sam's body and enjoy him, make sure that Sam enjoyed it, too.

 

“Oh God,” Sam moaned, the sound one of pure pleasure. Muscles loosened gradually and Sam squirmed. “I won’t break if you use a little pressure, I promise. Your hands feel so good on me.” Where the burning aggression used to be, only a sense of belonging and utter devotion swelled. The heat and weight of Dean’s hands, the gentle and smooth rocking motion as he leaned into the massage sparked warmth low in Sam’s belly, which gradually grew to the faint sizzle of growing arousal.

 

Dean grinned as he felt Sam moving and relaxing under him. He pressed down kneading his thumbs into the back of Sam's neck and over both of his shoulders, moving slowly. He took his time and worked over every knot he could find, slow and precise. "I know you won't break," he answered. Not from this, not after all the shit they had done in the past. "I never thought I'd be able to touch you like this. Be happy just touching you all night."

 

“I know what you mean,” Sam replied softly, shifting his hips to accommodate his growing arousal. “Just having you touch me—God, it’s more than I’d ever hoped for.” He twisted just enough so that he could see Dean’s face, a loving smile curving his mouth. “We’re turning into saps, but I think we’ve earned it.”

 

Dean laughed softly, his hands moving down Sam's back and working over his lower back. He smiled back and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it." He shook his head. "Us from yesterday and us today." He cleared his throat, just the suppressing of the wolf nature had allowed them to touch and kiss, it was so much more than he ever thought they would have. "Big change."

 

“Yesterday, if we’d tried this, we would’ve been clawing at each other right now. It’s so good to just feel you without the pain. I like hard and fast sometimes; it makes me feel alive and needed, but this soft and slow is like walking in heaven.” Sam settled back down, head pillowed on his crossed arms. “I never knew that a back massage could be arousing, though,” he teased lightly, in no big hurry to get to the sex. If it happened that night, it happened; if not, then it would eventually. It was nice to be able to take their time and go slow.

 

"I like having the choice. We can decide how we want it and when, you know?" Dean replied. The need to claw, fuck and bite was all that drove them sometimes; it was good to be free from it. Dean leaned down and kissed between Sam's shoulder blades. He licked gently, his hands still moving as he tasted his mate and then pulled back. "The reason that it’s erotic is only because you're so hot for me."

 

“Always hot for you, Dean. Sometimes, it’s all I can think about. But, when I dream, I dream about that one night we got, that night we were able to go slow and touch and taste. I’ve been aching to have that with you again,” Sam admitted softly.

 

Dean moved up Sam's body and partly lay down on top of him. He kissed his neck and sucked before popping off and smiling. "Yeah, me too," he agreed. He brought his hand up to run it through Sam's hair, petting him affectionately. He pressed his hips down, obviously interested but his body wasn’t pushing for it like usual.

 

Sam hummed deep in the back of his throat and arched his hips back into Dean’s. “I love you,” he whispered and turned his head to catch the corner of Dean’s mouth in a kiss. “I want this forever. I want to be able to touch and scent and taste you without always needing to hurt you or be hurt by you.”

 

Dean pressed his lips to Sam's and kissed him deeply, his hand moving down Sam's back, mapping his body out. "I love you, too, more than anything." He nuzzled against Sam, kissing his ear. "Never want to go back to how we were," he confessed. "Want to always love you like you deserve, baby."

 

“You will,” Sam promised. “You’ll get to love me like you want to for the rest of our lives, and so will I.” He pressed back into Dean more, needing to feel as much of him as possible. He had to feel Dean; it was the only thing driving him anymore.

 

Dean pressed further down into Sam, his lips moving over his skin, small licks and kisses as his hands roamed downward. He pushed inside of Sam's pants, reaching around to undo his zipper and button. "I have the feeling we aren't going to see anyone else until we have to take that tea again."

 

Sam chuckled softly. “You can say that again. I doubt the rest of the wolves are going to be able to sleep for the smell and the noise.” He wriggled and rubbed and made a soft noise in the back of his throat, wanting more.

 

Dean moved his hand, loosening Sam's pants and pushing them down. "I don't even feel bad about it," he answered between the kisses he was applying to Sam's spine.

 

“God, you feel so good,” Sam moaned, arching his neck into the tiny kisses. “Can’t get enough of you.”

 

Dean pushed the jeans down the rest of the way and pushed them to the floor. His dick was hard and ready; he wanted to feel Sam, wanted inside of his boyfriend, have Sam buried deep in him. He wanted to redo all the times they had been together, when they had hurt one another. He moaned in agreement but his mouth remained busy.

 

Sam parted his legs and used his knees to arch back into Dean. “I’m starting to feel lonely, here. You’ve got too many clothes on. I’m going to feel offended if you keep those clothes, or get dressed before it’s time to take the next dose of the potion.”

 

"Can't have all that, huh?" Dean looked at Sam and laughed as he reached down to undo his pants, pushing them down and kicking them off to join Sam's clothes. He moved forward and licked Sam again, parting his cheeks, unable to wait. "Going to take all night," he mumbled before moving back again, taking his time.

 

“And I’m going to love every second of it.” Sam reached back and ran a hand down Dean’s side, reveling in the feel of soft, hot skin under his palm. He spread his legs further, allowing Dean to settle between them, and just tried to touch any part of Dean he could reach. 

 

Being on his belly didn’t allow much in the way of reciprocation, so Sam hoped Dean would let him turn over soon. Dean’s hands felt exquisitely good, and he leaned into the touch. Dean pushed his tongue inside Sam, tasting him, working him open. Sam cried out in surprised pleasure, his body bowing, spine arched, and head thrown back. “Dean, oh Christ, Dean,” Sam panted, instinctively fisting his hands in the sheets and pushing back onto Dean’s tongue.

 

He pushed further inside Sam, wanting to hear that cry again. Dean licked around the rim, fucking in and out of Sam's hole, sucking at the skin and biting here and there softly. He reached up and parted Sam a little more. "Baby, relax for me. I don't think we have anything slick; got to open you up," he said softly as he nudged Sam's entrance, probing with a finger.

 

Sam mewled and gasped, eyes rolling back in his head with the intensity of how fantastic it felt. He choked on a cry, his throat closing up. “Dean!” Sam’s voice came out thin and strangled, and he shoved his legs wider apart.

 

Dean bit his bottom lip. "God, you are so beautiful, Sam," he said, his voice rough with lust. He pushed in further, seeking out Sam's prostate and brushing against it. He put pressure in the right area and looked up to see Sam's reaction before moving his tongue back. He fucked into Sam, opening him up, pulling away after a few moments to add a second finger.

 

Another, louder cry broke from Sam’s mouth and he bucked backward into the fingers spreading him open. “Fuck, fuck, oh God, Dean,” Sam sobbed, pleasure wracking his body. It was exquisitely, painfully pleasurable, such a fantastic feeling that he wasn’t sure was actually possible.

 

Scissoring his fingers apart, he licked his lips and pushed in again before pulling out until just the tips of his fingers were inside. He had a feeling that he was going to enjoy teasing the hell out of Sam, though he knew he won't be able to handle it tonight. He wanted Sam too much for that.

 

“Please, oh God, Dean, please,” Sam begged, writhing under Dean’s hands and mouth. Tears of need welled in Sam’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “Please, I—I can’t take it anymore.”

 

Dean pulled back a little to give Sam room. "Turn over, Sam. I want to see your face." He wasn't trying to work Sam up and leave him hanging, he just wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting Sam when he took him. He wanted Sam to wiggle under him in pleasure only.

 

Sam couldn’t turn over fast enough. As soon as Dean was far enough back, Sam wriggled around and lay on his back, legs framing Dean, cock nearly purple with desire, the head sticky and drooling onto his belly. Sam reached for Dean, feverish with need, but his hands were gentle on his mate’s body, unwilling to cause pain even in the midst of desire.

 

Climbing back up, Dean settled between Sam's legs and took his mouth again. His own dick was painful, it was so hard. He wrapped his arm around Sam's waist to draw him closer until Dean’s cock settled at his entrance. "Is it okay, baby? I don't want to hurt you." He was unwilling to push inside Sam too soon or too harshly.

 

“Please, Dean,” Sam gasped, hands roaming over Dean’s back, his hips, trailing over his chest while he wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist. “I’m ready, so ready, baby. Please, please; God, Dean, I’m going insane.”

 

"Love driving you nuts," Dean teased as he gripped Sam's hips and pushed his way inside him, biting his bottom lip. He shuddered against the strain of Sam's muscles around his dick and he stopped a moment to give them both time to adjust. Moving forward again, he took a sharp breath as he settled into Sam's body.

 

Sam cried out and tightened his legs around Dean’s hips, panting for breath. No pain, not even a little bit of an ache; it all felt new and precious and tears welled up in his eyes, a smile spreading over his lips. “God, you feel so good,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck, hands sliding down to knead at firm ass cheeks and smooth flanks. “It’s amazing.”

 

Dean closed his eyes as his body relaxed and a smile spread across his face. When he opened his eyes, he found Sam looking back at him. He dropped his head and kissed Sam deeply, his hand coming up to run through Sam's hair, nuzzling him. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around this. It was a gift, an amazing and rare gift for the pair. "God, I love you so much," he said as if he couldn't express it well enough, make Sam understand just how much Dean loved him and just how important and perfect he was to Dean. A small tear slipped down Sam's cheek and Dean licked it away before he began to thrust.

 

“Love you, love you; oh God, Dean.” Sam arched up, meeting the slow, measured thrusts. He nibbled lightly and suckled at Dean’s throat, his shoulder, fingers teasing at his hole just hard enough to torment without actually pushing inside.

 

Dean sank down and pressed as close to Sam as he could get, nothing was enough but it wasn't because he had to taste blood and feel pain. It was just that it felt so good that he couldn't get enough. He arched his neck to give Sam all the access he would want and pushed back to meet his fingers. "Jesus," he gasped as he thrust forward again, hard and deep, taking up a constant pace.

 

Sam’s body tightened in pleasure, head tossed back and hands dragging Dean closer. He rocked his hips up to meet Dean’s, reveling in the sensation of pleasure without pain, lost in how it felt, how amazing it was to be loved by Dean, instead of just taken. It was almost a religious experience, would’ve been complete if only there were choirs of angels singing and warm white light engulfing them.

 

Dean reached between them, taking Sam's dick in his hand. He began to jerk him in time with each thrust. His bit his bottom lip, his own breath hitched, lost completely in Sam and the feel of being inside of him, of loving him and of being with him like this. "Want to see you lose it, baby," he mumbled as he kissed over Sam's face, his arm wrapping around Sam's back, holding him close.

 

A strangled cry ripped free of Sam’s mouth and he fisted a hand in Dean’s hair, dragging him down for a kiss, needing to devour the bittersweet flavor clinging to Dean’s tongue. His tongue moved in soft, pleading little plunges, opening Dean’s mouth wider, coaxing him to play and lick and taste. Sam mewled as he worked a finger inside of Dean, needing to feel him lose it, to make sure that they both fell over the edge together. He was already so close.

 

Opening his mouth he sucked on Sam's tongue, inviting him in, needing him. He chased Sam's tongue, licking and nipping as he went. "Fuck, Sam," he moaned, feeling Sam's finger breach him. Sam's muscles drew release from him as he pumped harder, close but not wanting to let this end just yet. He wanted to stay like this forever it felt so good, he needed more and more of this.

 

Sam tore his mouth free with a wordless cry, body spilling and tightening as release washed over him. It was so intense and all consuming that he couldn’t even warn Dean that it was coming, that he was falling apart, splitting at the seams. Sam shivered and trembled as he rode out the aftershocks, body bucking into Dean’s thrusts on autopilot.

 

Sam coming apart under him was the single most intense sight Dean had ever laid his eyes on. He followed within second of Sam, his body spilling out, filling Sam with waves of come. He moaned and his hand twisted into the sheets under them. He cried out, Sam's name dripping from his lips as his body tensed and relaxed, shaking and shivering before going limp.

 

Despite the languor that filled Sam’s muscles, he wrapped his arms and legs tighter around Dean, needing to feel him, to have as much contact as possible or else he was afraid he’d fall apart. He huffed and panted into Dean’s neck, trying to fill his laboring lungs, murmuring broken, half wheezed words that got lost on the path from his brain to his mouth.

 

Dean lay down on top of Sam, his breath quick and shallow. He whimpered as his body dropped, spent and tired but feeling better than he had in a very long time. He kissed Sam's forehead, tasting the sweat and exertion, and held him as he pulled out and laid down next to him, taking Sam into his arm. Right then he just wanted to lay with him and be close.

 

It took a few minutes for Sam to work up the ability to think and talk at the same time, but when he finally was able to coherently express himself again, all he could say was, “I love you so much, Dean.” He cuddled up against Dean’s side, refusing to give up his position and claim on Dean’s attention. “You make me so fucking happy that I almost can’t believe you’re real.”

 

"I love you, too, Sam." There was nothing in this world that was more important than Sam to Dean. He kissed Sam’s temple as he wrapped his arms around Sam and held him tightly. "God, you are everything to me, Sam; everything important, the single reason I exist."

 

“I can’t live without this, Dean,” Sam confessed softly, tipping his head so that he could look Dean in the eye. “Now that I’ve got you, soft and tender and loving and mine, I can’t ever give that up. If the spell doesn’t work, I’ll be taking that disgusting wolfsbane potion every night for the rest of my life. I can’t go back to pain and hurt, can’t hurt you anymore. I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

 

Dean nuzzled against Sam and nodded his head. "Me too, baby. I need this and only this," he agreed. He looked Sam over and he smiled, though there was more there. "I'm sorry for all that, you know," he said softly. "I mean, I'm fully aware that it wasn't our fault that we did all that shit but still, never going to hurt you ever again," he promised. It was fact that it needed to be part of their past: he needed to never make Sam scream again unless it was because something good was happening.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Sam whispered, stroking his fingers over Dean’s side. “I loved every moment with you, every single second, I just want us to have the control over ourselves to decide together when and if we want it rough like that. I don’t see us fucking like that for a long time, but we might want it back one day.”

 

Dean nodded his head and his hand came up to cup Sam's cheek, his thumb running over his bottom lip. "We'll get there, even if we do have to choke down that crap," he agreed, licking his lips as he leaned into the touch, wanting all the contact he could get with Sam. "I think we had our fill of rough for a while, got to get up there with soft and sweet." 

 

“Making love,” Sam murmured with a grin. “When it’s slow and gentle with someone you love, it’s called making love.” He wriggled his way up until he could press a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. “And I love you more than anything, more than life itself.”

 

"Right; I kind of like the sound of that." Dean softened a little and looked at Sam, studying him as if he had never seen anything else in the world that held his attention. "I love you, too," he replied and smiled as he kissed over Sam's face.


	13. Chapter 13

In the four days it took to set up the spell to unbind Dean and Sam, the pack only saw them once or twice a day when one or both ventured out to find food or wash up. But, the pack heard just about everything, grinning collectively at them for acting like a newly mated pair.

 

Matsi worked feverishly to get all of the ingredients and sigils drawn up; called help from her mother’s pack to aid her in the ritual, and keep Sam and Dean fed with the potion that subdued the wolf in them to stave off their bloodlust and insanity.

 

On the fourth evening, just two hours before moonrise, Matsi dragged London to the cabin the boys had been staying in. “You need to take them to the river and have them wash up: I can’t have the presence of seminal fluid or even spit from the other contaminating the ritual.” She knocked on the door and leaned into her mate’s side, relieved to finally be getting this ritual underway.

 

London laughed, he couldn't help it because in the past few days he was fairly sure the pair had nothing else but fluids. They all understood it, though; in some ways, the two were new to one another, to a side of one another and themselves they hadn't seen before. He put his arm around Matsi and nodded. "Alright," he agreed. The boys had been no trouble since they got on the land. Most of the others were fairly comfortable with them being here. It was good, and he would be glad once this was all done with. 

 

Dean and Sam spent most of their time in bed, even if they weren't having sex they just laid with one another. It was strange for such common practices to be so revealing and new to them but it was such an experience to be able to love one another. Dean heard the knock on the door and got up from the couch, fully dressed because they knew that Matsi and London would be here tonight to get this show on the road. He was nervous. Matsi had been right about the wolfsbane but if she was wrong about this spell it might actually kill him to lose having Sam like this. Opening the door, Dean greeted the pair and stepped aside so they could come in.

 

“I’m afraid we can’t come in, Dean,” Matsi murmured softly. “It’s time. You two need to go with London to wash each other. When you come back, we’ll meet in the woods in the clearing. London knows where. I’ll leave you two in his capable hands.” She went up on her toes and kissed her mate’s cheek and then turned and walked off into the woods.

 

Sam followed her progress with his eyes until she was gone from his sight, and then lifted his eyes to London. “We’ve got to wash each other?” he asked, cocking his head as he stepped out of the cabin, fingers linked with Dean’s.

 

Dean opened his mouth to ask a question but then he seemed to take into account what she just said. He looked to Sam and moved out of the doorway with his mate. London watched Matsi go and then turned back to the boys. "Just what it sounds like," he explained. "Sort of the same as if you've taken a shower together." From what Danny and Seff had said, he knew it wasn't a concept all new to them. "Come on, we'll go to the river. You may want to bring any personal items for such a task but we're a little time sensitive, want to make sure you're back with Matsi when it's time."

 

“Okay, lead the way,” Sam replied, tugging Dean closer to him, tucking him into his side. Already he could feel the itch of the wolf nature starting to unfurl, yawning awake after a four-day sleep. It wasn’t going to hit them all at once, but it would be waking up soon. Sam just hoped that they were well into the ritual before it woke up completely.

 

Tucking against Sam as they walked they followed London towards the river. Dean wondered what it would be like to be able to let the wolf inside them take over and for people not to end up dead. The other wolves seemed happy and content; he wanted that for them, too. As they entered the woods which lead to the river, London could smell the faint scent of the wolf on both of the boys. He had full faith in his mate and knew they would both be fine. Once the ritual was over they should be as any other wolf was—what they should have been able to be for the past few years.

 

Sam nuzzled his nose into Dean’s hair, picking up their combined scents wafting up from Dean’s skin. It was tantalizing to be able to smell himself on Dean, their personal musk mixing in such a way that marked loudly to any other wolves that they were a mated pair.

 

Dean licked his lips, tasting Sam there. He wanted very much to be alone with Sam right now, though, it wasn't the time. "Going to be able to love one another like wolves," he mumbled. "Not violent wolves." He smirked as he turned his head to take in a deep breath. That was Sam's scent, the smell filling his nose as they moved.

 

“You keep talking like that and we’ll be late,” Sam warned cheerfully, patting Dean’s backside. “Don’t worry, tonight, under the full moon, I’ll make love to you the way you should be loved. We just have to wait a little longer.”

 

"I'm excited mixed with scared out of my mind, I can't help it," Dean confessed, but smiled at the promise. London cleared his throat once they were at the river's edge. He had a feeling that if he didn't tell them they were there they might walk right into the water and still not notice.

 

Sam looked up and grinned sheepishly at London. “Sorry, we’re still in the honeymoon phase.” He removed his arm from Dean and started shucking off his clothes. “So, just washing up? Nothing special or mystical about it?” he asked, dropping his shirt and toeing out of his shoes.

 

London grinned. "Believe me; I understand. There’s nothing else. Just make sure you stay calm like you have been the last few days." He looked over to Dean to see him pulling his shirt off. Dean dropped his clothes on the ground to joins Sam's as he kicked his shoes off and undid his jeans.

 

“Understood. I’m assuming that we’re not supposed to, uh, mate while we’re washing each other?” Sam asked, dropping his jeans and boxers to the ground and stepping out of them. He glanced over at Dean and had to tear his eyes away; there were hickies sucked into that golden dappled skin in the shape of Sam’s mouth, hickies where bites would usually be. It made heat roll in Sam’s belly, his jaw clench; he couldn’t have and own and take right now. He had to make sure that they got to the clearing in time to do the ritual. He wanted to have Dean the way they should have been able to have each other from the beginning.

 

London shook his head. “No, you cannot mate; no bodily fluids can be on or in either of you,” he explained. 

 

Once Dean had removed the rest of his clothes, he looked to Sam and shrugged. “We’ll do our best.” He took Sam’s hand and led him to the water so they could get in. He was eager for all this to happen, he was tired of that clawing wolf in the back of his head. He was sure that this was who they were supposed to be and he was more than ready to accept it, to be with Sam this way all the time and to be happy with him without the need of pain and violence.

 

Sam followed Dean into the water and sank down into a crouch, tugging Dean down with him. They didn’t have any soap with them, but the silt near the shoreline would clean them well enough. He let go of Dean’s hand and grabbed some silt, smoothing it over his mate’s skin to clean away the dried come and sweat. Happily, Sam found no blood, just hickies and love bites that hadn’t broken the skin. It was wonderful to see his lover covered in his marks and to be covered in return, without the broken skin and dried blood.

 

The two of them had left bites and cuts all over one another since they had first been together. It was so new not to taste Sam's blood in his mouth or see black and blue bruises lining his body. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of Sam's hands on him, gentle and caring. He took a deep breath, trying to force his body to behave itself and get his dick to understand that it wasn’t getting attention. He opened his eyes and smiled, his eyes taking in Sam. "I think this no mating thing is cruel and unusual," he joked as he moved over and grabbed some silt so he could do the same for Sam.

 

“Tell me about it,” Sam laughed. He scrubbed Dean’s shoulders and chest, down his arms and sides. He caressed sun dappled skin, fingers loving and gentle as he washed his mate’s skin. “After this ritual, though, we’ll be able to do whatever we want to each other without that nasty potion and without hurting each other.”

 

Dean moved his hands over Sam's sides and belly, cleaning him as he moved upward. "Yeah, right; it’ll be great. I can't wait for this to be done with it. I mean, we were always kind of insane but that crawling need seems to be front and center once you know what it was." Even if they didn't want to hurt one another, his mind knew what his instincts wanted, finally, and he wanted to love his mate all the time without having to choke that junk down.

 

Sam carefully washed Dean’s crotch and urged him to stand so that he could wash Dean’s legs. “Tell me about it. It’s starting to itch at me again. Without the potion, I’m starting to need you the way I did before and I don’t want that.”

 

Dean closed his eyes willing his body to behave itself as he nodded his head. "Yeah, me too. I don't ever want to go back to that." He spread his legs a little to give Sam room and finally opened his eyes to look at his mate as he moved. "Ever wonder what it will be like walking around on four legs instead of two? I've had dreams about it, even more now that I know."

 

Sam grinned up at his mate, fingers careful as they moved over Dean’s balls, perineum, and back further to clean over his hole. “I’ve had a couple of dreams like that, but mostly, once I hit puberty, all I dreamed about was you. Scared the living fuck out of me for a long time, I even went to psychics to see if they could turn the dreams off. No one could so I learned to deal. Eventually, I got used to them and realized that I wasn’t watching the torture and rape, I was watching you.” He got to his feet and moved around behind his mate, desire slamming into his belly hard as his hands traveled over Dean’s shoulders and back.

 

Dean's body started to react and he whimpered in the back of his throat because that need to hurt was getting worse by the minute. He knew he couldn't and he didn't want to because he didn't want to hurt Sam or keep the ritual from working. "I knew you were there; I don't know how I knew, but I felt you and I only realized you were a real person when we met and then it was from that moment on." He turned to face Sam again. "My turn to make you hard and leaving you panting," he joked as he moved to kneel in front of Sam, hands traveling slowly.

 

“I’m already hard and panting for you,” Sam quipped, staring down at his mate around his jutting arousal. “I hope this ritual is a quick one, because I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

 

Dean smiled as he cupped Sam's balls and rolled them in his hand, moved down the inside of Sam's legs, working his way down and back up again. He paid attention to every inch of his mate's body before getting up and moving to his back. There was nothing different there; his fingers ran over Sam's crack, his ass and back. "Yeah me too, this really is unfair if you ask me."

 

“Yeah, unfair,” Sam breathed, panting. “Okay, we’ve really got to hurry or we’re going to have to wash again, because I really want to pin you to the ground and fuck you until you scream.” Sam’s shoulders rose and fell rapidly with his quickened breaths, hands fisted at his sides. 

 

All at once Dean could smell Sam and the need to mate hit him even harder. He nodded his head and London seemed to realize what was going on as well. "Come on, boys; I think you're good and Matsi will be waiting for us," he said as he saw the stiff stance Sam had taken on, and moved closer to the water's edge.

 

Sam dunked himself under the water to rinse away the silt and hurried out of the water. “Any chance this ritual includes being chained down?” he asked with a wry smile. “Because I’m not too sure it was such a good idea to let him touch me while the potion wears off.”

 

Dean finished up and moved to get out of the water, running a hand through his hair. "Seriously, you're lucky we haven't started ripping one another apart already." 

 

London shrugged. "No, you won't be chained down but this ritual, like most, isn't a cake walk; you just have to keep it under control a while longer. We'll be there to make sure you don't kill each other."

 

“Easier said than done.” Sam gathered up his discarded clothes and bundled them into a messy ball, tucked it under his arm. “Lead the way. Dean, maybe you should walk ahead with London right now. I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself much longer if you’re right beside me.”

 

Dean nodded his head, not really trusting himself to do more than keep his mind on anything but Sam. He grabbed his clothes and waited for London to tell him which way to go. Once London pointed, Dean moved and London kept his attention back and forth between the two just in case. 

 

They traveled through the woods and heading north towards the clearing. "We aren't far from the clearing." They walked and Dean quickened his pace a bit. The clawing need was building up under his skin and he couldn't risk that with Sam, he needed to get this over with, they both did.

 

The sound of drumming and soft chanting was the first actual sign that they were close to the clearing, becoming audible just after London pointed out that they were close. Sam silently battled back the need to tackle Dean to the ground and fuck him, forced himself not to snarl at London for being close to his mate, and focused all of his attention on the coming ritual. He needed this ritual to work or he was afraid that one day he and Dean just might end up killing each other.

 

Dean twitched and his stomach tightened painfully. He stopped just outside the clearing, a growl escaping him, the uneasiness of so many wolves, so many scents and sounds hitting him all at once. They had been told they couldn't be violent for this to take place but he wasn't promising anything at this point. He needed to grab Sam and get away from or hurt the other wolves. 

 

London stood his ground between the two young wolves. He could easily take one or both of them but after getting so close to them, he didn't want to see either harmed. "Go," he ordered Dean and turned to Sam, giving him the same look. "Now." With any luck, their inner wolves would obey, otherwise things could get difficult.

 

Sam bared his teeth but moved around London and Dean and stalked into the center of the circle, eyes scanning each face. He turned a slow circle, trying to watch everyone at once, a low, sub-vocal growl vibrating in his chest.

 

“Dean, would you please step into the circle with Sam? I need both of you to kneel and look up at the sky. This won’t take long, I promise.” Matsi stood directly across from where her mate stood, naked as were the rest of the wolves in the circle.

 

Dean watched Sam and moved past London quickly, his eyes scanning her and the rest of the pack. London came to join the rest, his clothes gone as he took his place near where the boys would be, giving Masti a small hopeful smile as he did. Dean entered the circle, his eyes on Sam, need, desire and pure hard lust boiling, masked only by the hate for those surrounding them. He knelt down, his hands balled fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

 

The sensation of being surrounded made Sam’s hackles rise and he crouched down behind Dean, hovering over him protectively with his teeth bared in a snarl. With so many wolves around, Sam wasn’t sure he could kill all of them and get Dean out and away from danger before they took him down. His growl roughened and deepened; a clear warning for everyone to stay away.

 

Matsi knelt on the edge of the circle and placed three candles in a neat triangle before her, a small clay bowl on the ground in the center of the three candles, and sprinkled incense into the clay bowl. She closed her eyes and whispered a small prayer for protection and lit the incense, and then the candles. 

 

“Spirits of the center of the Earth, we call upon you. We call you, protective spirits, to help these boys, to defend them.” Matsi’s voice rang clear, the words echoed by the wolves in the circle, hands raised to the sky. “Being without defense against this malevolent attack, I entreat you, combatants of the right causes, and guardians of the defenseless, to rise up against this evil and malicious presence.”

 

Having Sam so close to him really should have helped his nerves but didn't. The other wolves so close made him think they'd attack. He couldn't take his eyes from them, his ears perked and his breath was fast and shallow. He was ready to rip apart anyone who came too close, the reality of why they were here fading in and out with the need to get away. 

 

He heard Matsi's words and he arched his neck a little, tense. He relaxed slightly, though he was unsure why and his eyes closed a moment, leaning back and seeking out Sam, needing the feel and the contact but unsure if it was okay or not.

 

“Utilize your mighty force to destroy and cut down this evil, purge it by your fire, to purify and cleanse this iniquity, that it may no longer wield its wicked influence,” Matsi continued, echoed by the other wolves, voices a steady thrum.

 

Power crackled and built, skimming down Sam’s spine and forcing his growl to ramp up to a more threatening tone. His bones felt like they were vibrating out of his skin, and something twisted and clawed at his belly, inside, like it was trying to get out.

 

“This we ask, in confidence that it shall be done. By your presence, by your will; as we ask it, so mote it be!” The words fell away and a loud humming took over, tugging and whipping around the circle, gaining force, power. Sam cried out, spine snapping straight and hands fisted at his sides, jaw clenched against the tearing feel of something ripping out of him, off of him like the top layer of skin.

 

Dean started to shiver and shake; his fists tightly and his teeth clenched. He yelled out as sparks flew up and down his spine painfully. He couldn't have controlled it even if he wanted to; the wolf inside him had never known the power of freedom and seemed hell bent on taking it as a God given right. He cried out again but this time it was just a growl or maybe a howl, it somehow sounded foreign to his own ears. He fell forward, his fist in the dirt under him, crawling and snapping.

 

The air rippled and spun and then the power slammed into Sam and Dean, throwing them backwards into a tangle of limbs. Fur sprouted on Sam’s skin, his back bowing as the transformation over took him. He screamed as his bones rearranged, muscles shifted, joints snapping and popping, the deafening crunch of bones breaking and realigning.

 

Dean fought against the change but it hurt so much more. He closed his eyes, crying out as the change shoved itself forward. His body twisting, bones snapping and spine tightening and lengthening and he hit the ground hard. He tried to speak but all that ripped from his mouth were growls and he lost all control. Fur sprung out on his skin.

 

His breathing was harsh, air forcing itself in and out of his lungs as he fell forward into the ground. He just let the change take over and laid there as he twisted further, bones shifting into different yet still correct places, his body going limp when it was finally finished.

 

And when it stopped, Sam rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Only, when he looked down, he saw paws. He yelped and danced backwards in surprise, and his gaze fell on Dean. Dean looked like a wolf, but he was still recognizably Dean. His scent was so much stronger now, a little more wild, but undeniably Dean.

 

Sam trotted back over to his mate and nudged at his neck, whining worriedly in the back of his throat, nose buried in gray and white fur. It felt strange that he knew how his body worked, and that he could look at the other wolves and recognize them as the people that had been sitting in a circle around them just a few moments ago.

 

Dean pushed himself up and nuzzled into Sam, licking at Sam's face to let him know he was okay. He took in the scent of Sam and it made him relax, the fear and doubt gone as he looked around a moment. He cocked his head to the side, taking in the other wolves. He was a little off for a moment, it was odd to be in wolf form; though it felt natural it also felt different. He was truly comfortable and he breathed deeply, almost happy and eager as he pushed against Sam again. "Sammy," he mumbled and though he didn't speak aloud, he knew Sam could hear him.

 

The wolf that trotted up to them was small and had wavy, thick black fur. She stood back just enough so that she wasn’t crowding them. “I think it’s time for you boys to go on a run,” she suggested.

 

“Can you tell the others to go, Matsi?” Sam asked, crowding up against Dean, standing between Matsi and his mate. “We’re still a little shaken, and we’re still getting used to being like this. I’m kinda feeling penned in. If they can just go, we’ll be back in camp in the morning.”

 

Dean looked over towards Masti and London as he came up behind her. Pressing against Sam, Dean didn't really care for what they did now as long as he remained close to Sam and the others let them be for the time being. London looked at the others, who for the most part seemed intent on the two newest wolves. He allowed a soft growl to escape him, which each wolf turned his or her attention to him before turning to leave. "They'll leave you both alone," London promised the pair as he joined his own mate. He looked on her with pride because though it was no surprise that she could do this it amazed him.

 

As the other wolves dispersed, Sam relaxed. He was still edgy and felt full to bursting with energy and the strange need to run, but he felt less inclined to snarl and snap at anyone. “Thank you both,” he said quietly, easing off of Dean so that he was no longer in full body contact.

 

Relaxing, Dean took a deep breath and stretched his legs out a little as he looked at the other pair. "Yeah, thanks for everything." The pack, Matsi and London really done everything for them, first off by not just killing them and by bring them to this point. He licked his chops and stood straight. 

 

London nodded his head. "You're welcome, boys. We'll see you both in the morning."

 

Matsi bobbed her head and turned, bounding off into the night to run with her mate while Sam nuzzled and licked Dean’s muzzle. “Come on. I wanna run with you for awhile.”


	14. Chapter 14

Dean whimpered in his sleep; Sam was under him with Dean's head almost between his shoulders. They had fallen asleep the same way but in wolf form the night before after several hours of exploring and running. The two had been something they never had been before, playful, and it was fun. He had acted more like a puppy than a full grown adult wolf and Sam had been much the same way. Affection in wolf form was much the same as it was in their human form, maybe even a little more because though they could speak to one another almost everything was said through touches, licks and nuzzles. 

 

He smelled of his mate and Sam of him and it was so much more present now because the inner wolf saw, heard and moved freely now. They had moved throughout the land until the wee hours, unwilling to give it up until they both dropped. Snuggling together, they had been warm and comfortable, not far away from the camp. They had slept the night through. Dean had wrapped his body around Sam to keep him warm and just enough to keep himself satisfied that Sam was safe. Falling asleep to the steady breathing and heartbeat of his mate had left him happy and content. 

 

The change back had happened during their sleep and they hadn't even noticed. With no fear or resistance the change had been as smooth as they had seen for the others. Dean blinked once and nuzzled against Sam, blinking a few more times as the sun beat down on them. He sighed and moved closer to Sam’s face to nuzzle him awake.

 

Sam was much slower to wake than he usually would be, exhausted in mind and body after the ritual and then the mad dashing through the woods. Having Dean with him, being able to touch him, without the potion, was a gift that Sam would never be able to repay. If not for Matsi’s willingness to help, he and Dean would’ve been damned to continually hurt each other. The very thought of hurting his mate made him physically ill.

 

“Fuck, it’s too early,” Sam grumbled, but slung an arm around Dean and rolled them both over so that he could use his mate as a pillow. “Just wanna stay like this with you a little longer.” Even half asleep, he couldn’t bear the idea of being away from Dean, even for a few moments. Getting up and getting dressed, heading back to the camp—all of it would require letting go of Dean for at least a moment or two. And then they’d have to deal with the other wolves. Sam liked them fine, but he was much more used to waking up with Dean and only dealing with people if they wanted to.

 

Dean laid back into the grass and settled again with no fight. He nuzzled his face into Sam's hair, his arms wrapping around him. Sam's scent and warmth was all around him. He could smell it on his skin and on the ground under them. He shifted a little and took in a deep breath. "I'll lie with you here all day," he agreed as he closed his eyes again.

 

Sam chuckled and buried his face in Dean’s neck. “We can’t stay here all day. We need food and clothes and I really want to brush my teeth, and maybe drag you out to the river we washed in yesterday and flesh out some of the ideas you gave me.” He nibbled at his mate’s neck, trailing up the smooth column to suckle softly at Dean’s earlobe.

 

Dean smiled softly and arched his neck, wanting Sam to touch him more. "Who needs food and clothes?" He chuckled as he opened his eyes again. "Love when you touch me," he mumbled softly, his hands coming up to rub up and down Sam's spine. "I can't believe how much has changed for us just in the last week, you know? I was starting to get scared we were going to actually kill one another." He confessed because that had been a fear Dean had but couldn't admit to. He couldn't even imagine hurting Sam now, but before the potion and the change, he couldn't help himself from doing so.

 

“I was worried about that, too. It was like we were getting more violent with each other; half the time we didn’t bother with prep, and one or both of us ended up bleeding by the end of it.” Sam ducked his head and rested his forehead against Dean’s. “Is it wrong that I dreaded touching you while craving it with every ounce of my being?”

 

Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head before kissing him softly. He honestly didn't think he would be able to bear rough sex for a long time. He knew the others had fun with it, it was common even, but Sam bleeding or whimpering in pain wasn't something that he could take again. "Not at all, because I felt the same way; hurting you made me sick to my stomach but I just couldn't stop. It was like sometimes I wasn't even there, you know; no control."

 

“Control was something neither of us had—at all. If someone pissed us off, or we were having a bad day, we’d kill someone, torture them and enjoy it. God, I don’t want to kill anyone again, not unless they leave me no other choice.” Sam rolled off of Dean and curled up around him; a leg tossed over Dean’s slim hips, an arm over his chest, head resting on a nicely muscled shoulder.

 

"Yeah, me either. I mean, then I loved it but now I don't think I could do it. I could kill to protect you but not the torture and the rape and all that. That it isn't who we are." For a long time Dean had thought it was who he was, had believed he loved it and needed it. Now he could see that it wasn't so. He turned a little to cuddle up to Sam.


	15. Chapter 15

In the three weeks that had passed since the ritual, Sam and Dean had learned several things about their more animal nature. They’d learned to hunt in their wolf forms, how to fight effectively, and how to use their sense of smell to tell what was happening around them. They’d been able to detect scent before, but now that their wolves were free their senses were enhanced to the point of needing to train them so that they could function.

 

Matsi and Danny had spoken to Sam about possibly joining the pack, but wouldn’t explain what joining entailed. Sam, being naturally wary of things he didn’t understand, had simply said that he’d talk with Dean about it, though he already knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with some unknown joining ceremony that was to happen all at once with no time given to decide one way or another. Currently, Sam was sitting on the steps outside the cabin he was sharing with Dean, watching the other wolves move around. “Hey, Dean?” he called over his shoulder. It wouldn’t do to make a decision without Dean’s input, so he’d actually have to ask even though he was mostly sure that Dean wouldn’t agree to join the pack anyway.

 

Dean had enjoyed his time with the pack, he liked the other wolves and he was comfortable here. Mostly he enjoyed being able to come into his own as a wolf, the changes that he and Sam had dealt with had been good rather than bad for once. Sam’s call outside brought him to the doorway. "What's up?" His mate's tense body language told him something was up; maybe nothing bad, nothing dangerous but something nonetheless. He moved out onto the steps and sat down next to Sam, his eyes on him a moment before moving to take in the other wolves around them.

 

“Danny and Matsi said something about possibly joining the pack,” Sam started, trying to figure out the right way to explain his misgivings with the idea. He looked over at Dean and sighed, scooting over and resting his head on his mate’s shoulder. “I told them I’d talk with you about it.”

 

Dean pressed against Sam as his mate moved into him. He didn't know how he felt about something like that, really. It would be wonderful to have a home and to belong to but at the same time the wolves had no choice but to follow London. Dean didn't know how he felt about that. He would rather that he and Sam decide where they went and what they did. He had been on his own for a long time before he met Sam and it had been only the two of them for so long as it was. "You sound bothered by that, is there something I should know?" he asked, picking up on Sam's tone.

 

“Well, when I asked them what we had to do, they both sort of clammed up and got really vague. Something about trusting the alpha, no matter what the situation.” Sam slid an arm around Dean’s waist and caught one hand in his free one. “I was a hunter for so long that I can’t just blindly trust someone that I don’t know. Hell, the only person I know that I would follow blindly into anything is you. My own mother used to get the third degree whenever a hunt was sent in and she asked me to take it.”

 

Dean didn't like the idea of not being told what they needed to do first. He trusted his own judgment and he trusted Sam's. "I trust London," he said, "but, I don't think I could trust him blindly. I like that I have a choice in what we do and the wolves in the pack don't seem to have that. I mean, I know they can disobey but if they do they become omegas and I don't want to live like that." His inner wolf felt the need to belong but at the same time he didn't feel the need to belong to someone other than Sam. There was sadness in his eyes at the thought of losing the home they seemed to have here.

 

“I didn’t get the feeling that it was mandatory to become pack if we stay here, but I’m sure that not becoming pack would make the others worry.” Sam sighed. He liked the idea of staying and belonging as much as Dean did, but there was no way he could blindly follow someone other than Dean. “But, I’m sure they would be all right with us visiting from time to time. They wouldn’t turn away allies, right? Maybe if we make it clear that they could call on us if they needed help, it wouldn’t seem like we’re cutting them out entirely?”

 

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I mean they asked you about becoming part of the pack; I don't think anyone is demanding anything of us." The pack had done so much for them that the idea of leaving hurt him. "I don't think they would disown us just because the choice that was right for them wasn't right for us." They weren't part of the pack, but he knew they had friends here, family even, and wolves held both very close to their hearts. "Besides, we're still new at this. We need to have a chance to explore what's right for us; just because this is the way we've been shown doesn't mean it’s the only way. London doesn't seem the type who to hold it against us, you know?"

 

“I agree, but I can tell you’d like to stay here.” Sam cupped Dean’s jaw and turned his head to look at him. “We can stay awhile longer before we decide to move on, if you want to.”

 

Dean shook his head. "I just didn't think about having to leave, I guess." Wolves were pack animals so Dean could blame instincts on the hesitation, it was reality. He bit his bottom lip. "I don't think it would be a good idea to stay," he added. They would be fine no matter where they went because they were together and Sam was what Dean needed. It wasn't right for them to stay, and that realization was enough for him to understand that it was time to go. He moved closer to Sam and nuzzled his face before kissing him. "I think I'd like to find some place to settle," he said as he pulled back from the kiss a bit. "I think I've had enough of the open road; just find land or a home somewhere and make it our own. Does that sound stupid?" he asked, turning pink because he was starting to think he sounded like a chick.

 

“It’s not stupid,” Sam assured. “I do still have a house, even though it’s close to my mother’s place and hunters come to me sometimes when they need help with research, but if you want we can find another place and set up house. Somewhere with woods nearby so that we can go for a run and so that the full moon won’t leave us trapped in a city.”

 

Being near hunters and Sam's mom didn't seem comfortable to Dean, but somewhere they could just be themselves and not trapped was what he really wanted. He nodded and laid his head on Sam's shoulder, taking comfort in the picture they were painting, what he wanted but never knew. "I like the sound of that. We'll talk to London today, then; let him know and work everything else out as we go."

 

Sam kissed the top of Dean’s head, a smile bowing his lips. “Sounds like a plan.”


	16. Chapter 16

When Sam and Dean had shown up on their doorstep, it wasn't much of a surprise; the boys had been here a few times. He was pleased that they seemed to take to their nature so well, they looked healthy and happy and that was far more than he could say for them when they had first come into the land. Their stance said this was serious though, and as they spoke he began to realize that part of it was fear. They couldn't trust in an alpha to the point that was needed for a pack member, but that didn't mean there was something wrong with them. That didn't mean that they would be outcasts to this pack or that they wouldn't be welcomed back, either. 

 

He allowed them to speak as he sat across the room, facing them with Matsi by his side. The truth was that the boys, though normal wolves, still were a little different in one important point. There was no alpha within their relationship, they allowed one another to take control, make the choices and had even gone as far as marking one another through blood. 

 

As Dean finished what he had to say, he sat back. He and Sam had said their piece and he couldn't help but try to read Matsi and London. The pair had done so much for them and he didn't want to seem ungrateful and he didn't want to lose their place here; the was the last thing he wanted but at the same time staying seemed just as wrong as leaving could. 

 

"Boys, when we offered you our help there were no strings attached. You are set in your own ways and I have no doubt that you will both find the happiness that is right for you. It isn't here and that's okay; you will always be welcome here but you need to do what your heart tells you to do, a wolf is known for nothing less."

 

Matsi nodded in complete agreement with her mate. “Should you two ever need our help again, you have but to ask.”

 

“We appreciate that, ma’am,” Sam said, squeezing Dean’s hand lightly. “And you can send to us if you ever need anything. Once we’ve settled, we’ll get word to you where we are. We owe you a debt—not because you’re asking for it, but because you gave us something we thought we could never have: each other.”

 

Dean was relaxed against Sam and he smiled looking at his mate. "Yeah, I don't think we could ever repay you for that." He and Sam could love one another and they had finally had an understanding of who they were. It was a gift that was so important words didn't seem enough. 

 

London was just happy that the young wolves would be okay. Their kind was coming to be fewer because of hunters; saving Sam and Dean meant much to the pack. Not only for that reason, but because they had been suffering. No matter what hunters and humans thought, wolves were not ones to let others hurt. "We thank you for that." Young, strong wolves were always important and he believed that the pair would serve well in time of need.

 

Sam got to his feet and tugged Dean up with him. “Thank you both for the help, we are very grateful, but it’s time for us to go. I think we’ll head out in the morning, before the pack wakes up. We’ll say our goodbyes tonight.”

 

Matsi got to her feet as well and stepped forward, folding her arms around Sam’s waist in a brief hug before turning and giving Dean the same treatment. “We’ll be sad to see you go, but bright futures are waiting for you both.”

 

London stood up as well and shook both of the wolves' hands before putting his arm around his mate. "Matsi is right; you both have a lot more to look forward to so just enjoy it." He grinned as they saw them to the door. It was best for them to be able to leave without the pack's eyes on them, this was their choice and though the others may be sad to let them go they had to understand that the pair deserved their happiness. 

 

Dean accepted the affection and moved with Sam to the door, glad that it was over with and knowing that he could leave now without feeling lost. He was excited to find a place of their own and to settle once and for all. He wrapped his arm around Sam as they left.


End file.
